Mega Man ZX3: Omega's Ascension
by X the Reaper
Summary: Master Albert is dead and Model W gone. However, the peace that Ashe fought for has not yet been achieved. Master Thomas prepares to unleash the dark power of Model O to reset the world, and now Mega Man Model A must team up with both friends and former foes to win a new Game of Destiny. All the while, a single young Reploid makes a discovery that will change his life forever...
1. Five Lights

**Hello everybody, this is X the Reaper, bringing you all yet another story from the depths of my subconscious.**

**This time, fan-sequel story! This one's continuing on where a particularly loved series of mine left off, a sequel hook so blatant I can't leave it floating there any longer. That hook being the ZX storyline of Mega Man, one of the most beloved gaming series around.**

**This story has been in a long time coming. Originally, it was to be my FIRST story I would ever write, but a combination of a rising appreciation for the Fate/stay Night series and ebbing of interest in Mega Man led me to put this on the back-burner. Then came my interest in BlazBlue, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Five Nights at Freddy's, MLP: FIM, Lyrical Nanoha and Odin Sphere, all while this idea gathered dust, occasionally being taken out, brushed off, then put away again.**

**However, a recent surge of nostalgia has lead me to give it another shot, in addition to several 'what-if' stories also set in this continuity, in particular one ****Megaman ZX: Return to Zero**** by RiceKrispie and Mega Man ZX Aspects of Omega by Kuraselache (which was the original inspiration for this fic). At long last, I intend to write this story.**

**And before anyone starts bringing out the pitchforks and torches, let it be known I'm still working on _all_ of my other stories. I just have a bad habit of taking breaks by putting out new story ideas.**

**Disclaimer: Mega Man and all its sub-series belong to Capcom. X the Reaper owns nothing.**

**Alright, let's go!**

* * *

_The ashen skies of Area K burned crimson that evening as thick clouds of smoke and embers filled the sky with their poisonous fumes. The volcanic landscape seemed to rumble as the magma beneath shifted, seeking to free itself from its earthly confines. This place was synonymous with hell on Earth, and any who did not walk with some purpose on this field of rock and fire was nothing more than a fool with a death wish._

_And yet, two young humans, one boy and one girl, siblings to any who was close enough to tell, stumbled along the landscape, coughing and wheezing as they breathed in the toxic fumes and flames of the place. Yet still they pressed on, their destination the crest of one of the many volcanic peaks._

_Their names were Vent and Aile, and they were two of the most powerful beings on the planet, chosen to be the bearers of the power of heroes long past, granted through the power of the items known as Biometal. Together, they had faced and defeated a great evil the likes of which had not been seen in centuries. And here they had come to dispose of another such threat, one brought about by their own actions._

_"Well...we're here at last..." Aile breathed quietly. Her body was surrounded in crimson armor, blond hair flowing behind her in waves as she clenched the emerald katana in her right hand, plasma blade glistening in the fading light. Yet it was far from pristine: The armor was covered in various slash marks, including one horrific one right across the chest, and looked like it was in danger of peeling off, bloodied from where it hadn't been able to protect her fully. Though covered by a black visor (which was cracked along the center), she turned her green-eyed gaze to her brother, glancing at him sadly. He was in even worse shape than she was, his blue armor heavily cracked and bloodied, the hand cannon attached to his right arm occasionally sparking uselessly. The full helmet that covered his head looked like it was about to come apart any second, and he was breathing heavily, trying his best to recover his strength, all while his left hand shook as if something was trying to get loose._

_He shouldn't have come. She could have performed this duty by herself, but he had insisted on coming, if only so he could lay the ghost of his mistakes behind him. And she couldn't deny him that, not after what had happened._

_"Let's finish this..." she added with a note of finality._

_Vent nodded. Slowly, he walked closer and closer to the edge, lifting his left hand up. Pausing, he looked down at the artifact in his hands, taking just a moment to marvel at how this stone had caused so much pain. The dark crimson-colored stone seemed to vibrate in his grip, as if seeking to free itself, and it only increased as they got closer. Glaring at the ancient Biometal, he approached the fiery chasm as he spoke to it one last time._

_"Model X was right all along. You just can't be trusted. I should have done the right thing and listened to my friends when they told me the truth about what you really were, left you to rot in that prison forever," he said, all while it hissed harshly upon hearing his voice._

_Once, the crimson Biometal had desired the teen for itself, jealously merging with him whenever he sought to use one of his other Biometals. Due to its incredible power, Vent had tried to overlook its possessive nature, but its aggression had only escalated as he had matured, growing more and more frustrated by his compassion and desire to protect rather than destroy. Finally, the Biometal had snapped, attempting to forcibly merge with Vent whilst simultaneously attacking Model X so that it might become the only one who could Megamerge with him. It had taken Aile and Model Z together to pry the Biometal from her brother's body, but not before it had forced him to attack her in rage for her interference._

_Finally, Vent reached the edge, staring down into the lava beneath them. He gave the Biometal one last look, as if attempting to burn the image of its slashed and damaged form forever into his mind. "Goodbye, Model O."_

_With a mighty heave, he tossed the dark Biometal into the pit, watching as it vanished into the smog, clattering against stone and earth as fell further and further towards the lava. Vent didn't move, simply standing there as he watched its descent, barely acknowledging his sister's presence as she joined him in watching it fall, until they could see it no more._

_"Better?" Aile asked him softly, putting her hand on his shoulder and wincing as she had to reach. While they had both grown in the past year since defeating Serpent and Model W, Vent had definitely grown taller, his hair almost as long as her own now._

_Vent took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he felt Model O's presence fade from his mind at last. "Yeah, lots. I just hope no one ever finds that thing down there..."_

_Aile smiled tiredly and slowly gave him a hug, careful not to aggravate either of their wounds. Vent accepted it gratefully. "Don't worry about it. With how Area K's been acting up over the past years, people would be mad to come here for any reason."_

_Vent dearly hoped that was the case, and upon remembering how close it had come to taking him over, he darkly hoped that Model O melted into slag within the depths of that crater. A better fate than what it deserved, but it was the only safe way they had to dispose of it._

_"Let's go home," Aile told him. "Praire's probably freaking out about where we are now."_

_Vent chuckled as he let his sister lead. Right now, all he wanted to do was just get some sleep._

_But Model O had not met its end that day. By some freak chance, a random throw of the galactic dice, the rogue Biometal had rolled away from the all-consuming magma, clattering neatly across stone to nestle safely in a large crack in the crater wall. Safe and sound from the magma below, Model O fell into an uneasy slumber as the azure gemstone in the center of its forehead cracked. The consciousness within began to spread its influence outward into the air, causing the volatile activity around it to settle down while it slowly lost awareness over the next few hours._

_And finally, as the magma settled down to more normal levels, Model O fell asleep at last, dreaming dark dreams of days to come as it once more awaited the day of awakening, waiting for another fool to arrive and bring it back to the world..._

* * *

_**Legion HQ (Private Quarters of the Sage Trinity), 25XX (Three Years Later)**_

Master Thomas, head of the Sage Trinity and one of the three, now two, leaders of Legion, stared silently outside towards the setting sun of day as had more or less become his habit, arms resting upon the hilt of his ceremonial red sword. Though he could no longer see it, he could still picture the massive ship that nearly blotted out the skyline merely a week ago, it's serpentine form representing centuries of betrayal and misdirection by a man he had once called friend.

Nary two weeks ago, Legion, the most powerful organization on the planet, forged from the remnants of the old world after the Ragnarok Incident, had suffered the greatest threat to both its and the world's existence since the Serpent Insurrection (the name given to the incident involving the head of Slither Inc. and his attempts to bring about global anarchy with an artifact of ages long past) but four years prior. Much like the Insurrection, leading up to the event were constant and occasionally massive maverick attacks by rampant mechaniloids, all seemingly coordinated by two wanted criminals: Two mysterious reploids by the name of Prometheus and Pandora.

The attacks started small: Mining camps or outposts were the norm, then progressively graduated to isolated towns or military encampments, and eventually major commercial centers such as Cinq Ville, around the world. It was the almost as if the nightmare of the Serpent Insurrection was being relived, but on a global scale compared to a country one.

Thomas, along with his colleagues Mikhail and Albert as part of their duties as the leaders and protectors of the world, had done their best to find a way to assuage the growing public panic. They enlisted the aid of both the Guardians (the independent peacekeeping force that had stopped the Insurrection) and the Hunter guilds (bounty hunters nominally associated with Legion) to combat the attacks in addition to their own army. They had begun researching what the goals, if any, this newfound threat had. The common theme almost seemed to indicate terrorists or anarchists of some sort, given the chaotic nature of the attacks and the scarcity of survivors often left, but never once did they receive any demands from whoever was running the show.

At least, that had been the story on the surface for the press and the public. Beneath it, the three had discovered evidence of a malevolent force behind the attacks, an ancient evil that had begun to awaken and corrupt machines into puppets for destruction for destruction's sake. It was this very same evil that had supposedly twisted the mind of Slither's president Serpent, and the two beings known as Prometheus and Pandora were supposedly its 'voices', serving its will and destroying any who would oppose their mission from it.

The Guardians, two in particular, had been very insistent on this particular matter. They called it 'Biometal', the soul of a living being bound to a mechanical artifact, created by freak accident yet maintained by the soul's strength of will to remain. This Biometal had been referred to as Model W, so named for it contained the soul of one of the evilest and most foul beings who ever lived on this planet, the man originally responsible for the second greatest calamity the world had ever seen and mastermind of Operation Ragnarok.

His name was Dr. Weil, and his new form was that of the shattered remnants of Ragnarok, the great orbital space-station/super-weapon forged at the climax of the war between the totalitarian government of Neo Aracadia and the Reploid Resistance. His death and its destruction, the final act of Zero (a legendary hero of two time periods) had been the catalyst that eventually formed Legion itself, but no one knew what became of the wreckage.

Yet according to the Guardians Model W should have been destroyed along with the Slither Inc. head office. How had it returned if it was in fact behind these events?

The answer eventually came, but with a horrible truth. For the true mastermind had not been some terrorists or even an ancient weapon, but one of their own.

Master Albert, one of the Sage Trinity, had revealed himself before his fellows as none other than the one responsible for everything, from the Maverick attacks to the awakening of Model W, to even the fall of Slither Inc. He had been the one who studied Model W and refined it: The one Serpent found had been the original and most powerful piece, but there had been others, smaller and weaker but no less potent. For centuries he had spread them across the globe from their wreckage within Ragnarok, sealing them away and allowing them to slumber, growing stronger in preparation for the day of reckoning.

His goal? To become a god of a new world, to 'reset' the old one and make way for a new evolution of man.

Mad? Most certainly, yet it was a mad genius who sought to make it happen. Even after revealing himself, Albert succeeded in his goal: He united the fragments of Model W into one, christened the Ouroboros. The eternal serpent that represents time and the universe was to be the symbol of the new world, and nothing it seemed would stop him.

And yet, he had been. In the end, Albert fell to pawns of his own creation. To further his ambitions, Albert had crafted a 'Game of Destiny', meant to draw in those with the potential other than himself to use the power of Biometals, christened 'Mega Men' as a reference to some ancient hero of days long past. Albert had created his Chosen Ones personally, imparting his DNA to survivors of Maverick attacks _he _orchestrated, as if he was attempting to play God already. Prometheus and Pandora had been two such beings, as had Serpent, but he needed more.

By some twist of fate, a Guardian scientist by the name of Ciel, one of the heroes of the last great war between humans and reploids, had learned about Model W and reverse-engineered the original Biometal, creating six new ones to fight it. Four of them would eventually fall into Albert's hands to be used to further his ambitions, but the other two, named Models X and Z, would be used by two young Guardians named Vent and Aile. Together, they would ultimately defeat Serpent and delay Albert's plans, and later Vent alone would join forces with another Chosen One by the name of Ashe, who bore a mysterious seventh Biometal named Model A.

Ashe had been the dark horse in Albert's race. She was not chosen by Albert himself to become a Mega Man, yet she could still Megamerge. This conundrum of a young woman had defied every planned contingency of Albert's schemes, and it was she who dueled him alone for the fate of the world, slaying the mad god upon his throne. In the end, it turned out she bore Albert's blood naturally, the last living descendant of Albert's human bloodline, and Model A his backup in case Model W somehow failed.

That had been a week ago. The Ouroboros was gone, its wreckage sunken into the sea. The world should be at peace now, and yet it wasn't. In those terrifying days, riots had run rampant in the streets, acts of crime committed daily as people, believing it to be the end of the world, acted as if there was nothing left to lose. Humans turned on reploids in ignorance and fear, believing them unjustly to be cause of this, while reploids lashed back in self-defense and anger. Even now, crime was still very much a real thing throughout the world, fear and paranoia gripping the cities in a death-grip.

Thanks to the lasting corrupting effects of Model W upon machinery, Maverick numbers had skyrocketed in the past weeks, and even now it was dangerous business to perform any sort of overland travel without armed escort. Legion's military was spread thin, and while the Guardians and Hunters were doing there best to help, it was still a precarious situation.

Even now, Master Thomas could still see smoke rising from various portions of the city, proof that the anarchy still continued. It reminded him of the early days of Legion, when he still had a flesh-and-blood form, attempting to forge order out of the chaos that had been Neo Aracadia's collapse, to reign in lawlessness and establish rules that would guide both humans and Reploids to a better tomorrow, safe from Mavericks. For two centuries he had dedicated himself to the idea that the two races could overcome their differences and fight their common enemy, and yet in just as many weeks it was as if nothing had changed.

It was enough to make a lesser man despair, but Thomas was far from a lesser man. He had lived for centuries and seen many things, and in these times of crisis he had hardened his heart and soldiered on. He would do what was necessary, as he always had.

"'To bring new life into the world', eh?" he mused to himself, remembering his colleague's final words. Had perhaps Albert been so wrong about the world needing to change? The means by which to reach it (the destruction and absorption of everything into Model W), most certainly, but had the end been something truly wrong?

Behind him, Master Mikhail continued to shift through the data that had been collected and sent to them, detailing, however incomplete, the discoveries their old friend had made in pursuit of his mad dream. Even incomplete though, it amazed the old Reploid, and if he still had a flesh-and-blood body he would find himself in equal parts shivering in horror and yet gasping in amazement at what Albert had managed to do. Technology, biology, bioengineering, history, chemistry, evolution: All these fields their former colleague had managed to gather and forge into his ambition to create the so-called ultimate Mega Man, the 'Mega Man King'.

He looked up briefly from his information gathering, one of his three mechanical eyes focusing its emerald gaze upon Thomas' back. Though he felt that Thomas had merely been speaking aloud to himself, he felt the need to say something. "In the last mission report...Albert said some rather outrageous things." It still hurt to talk about Albert; twisted as he might have become, there was a time they had called him friend, and Mikhail on some level missed him despite the evils he had brought about.

'Outrageous,' Thomas repeated to himself. Yes, they had been. But even the most outrageous things have some grain of truth to them.

"Mikhail..." Thomas began slowly, not turning away from the window. "Do you think it presumptuous for us to give birth to new life?"

Mikhail barely suppressed a snort of indignation and disbelief. Surely Thomas couldn't be serious? Friend or not, Albert's talk of bringing new life into the world had been that of a madman. Even if Model W had been capable of such a thing, who would want to exist in a world with life born of that abomination? A ghost of the past, born of the hatred and madness of a monster who had long forfeited his right to be called human, had no business creating perversions of 'life'.

"How absurd," he replied truthfully. "Thomas, you couldn't possibly hold fast to such foolish imaginings."

Thomas did not turn from the window, but his usually calm expression began to change to something darker, his hands tightening upon the sword's golden hilt. Of course Mikhail didn't understand, he reasoned to himself. He had long held a powerful view of what was right and wrong, and almost nothing in their two centuries of reign together with Albert had truly changed it. Suddenly, he recalled a similar argument his late colleague had had with Mikhail on a very similar subject, a decision that had shaped the very future of the world they lived in.

"There are laws that give equality to humans and Reploids, correct?" he suddenly asked. "Don't you remember?"

Mikhail turned fully away from the data now, his confused face towards his friend's back. Indeed he did remember, and he had opposed it vehemently. Humans and reploids coming together as one species? Yes, he could understand it from an objective point of view: Humanity had feared what their creations, the reploids, could do if allowed free reign, and countless years struggle and war had been the result of either reploids lashing back or humanity's own efforts to curb this fear going horribly wrong. At the dawn of a new age, the divide that had so long separated the races had to be healed before they could begin restoring the world to a better place. And what better way to do so than to allow the races to become one, or as close to similar to each as possible?

But Mikhail, still fully human, had resisted, though not out of any hatred for Reploids: He approved of the idea for equality. It was simply the gravity of the ethical issues of what they were going to do: To forcibly change both species into something they weren't? You couldn't make a human have the same life-span as a reploid, so the only other option would be to reduce reploid lifespans, something that no one should have the right to do. You couldn't give a reploid a flesh-and-blood body, so humans would have to receive bionic implants, a type of surgery that was both costly and carried a high-risk of death in the post-war setting of the world.

Mikhail had been concerned with the moral question: Was it right for them to force people to change? And what of those who didn't want to or resisted? Would they be imprisoned, killed for the simple act of wanting to be the ones who decided how they'd be? Overkill? Yes, but in the chaos that were those first few decades, such things were a very a real threat, and no one, especially the reploids, had forgotten the genocidal campaign Neo Arcadia had perpetrated for the past century, the likes of which only matched by the ancient Holocaust of the 1900s. It would be all too easy for such laws to be seen as the first steps Legion took towards becoming no better than the government that had just collapsed.

And yet in the end, they had been passed...

"Those were passed because Albert and I agree on them," Thomas continued, almost as if he could read his friend's thoughts. "Surely you recall what they entailed?"

Why was the old fool bringing this up now? Did he honestly feel as if the events of the past weeks had been indirectly his fault? That by agreeing with Albert, he had allowed this to come to pass? Neither of them could have known about what Albert planned, and Mikhail wasn't even certain exactly at what point Albert stopped caring about the people and began devoting himself to Model W. The laws might have originally and genuinely been an effort by Albert to bring the races together, no hidden agendas whatsoever.

And even if they hadn't, things had turned out for the best, despite Mikhail's fears. Humans and Reploids had become closer than they ever had before, standing together as one against the maverick scourge that threatened them all. With humans granted reploid strength and reploids in turn given advanced systems that allowed them to experience the same quality of life as their creators, the equality laws, contrary to his concerns, had narrowed down the differences between the two races, to allow them to see that they were really one and the same. Was that really so wrong?

"W-What are you saying?" Mikhail asked him, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.

At last, Thomas turned to face him, and the short Sage caught his breath at the look upon his face. Thomas' eyes, once so clear and filled with stony determination, were now clouded with a dark look and something resembling madness gleamed within them.

"Give humans bionic bodies and give Reploids mortality," Thomas replied, then spreading his arms wide, sword still clutched in his right hand. "So, where do you think the Human bodies for the reploids are? What do you think happened to the original Reploid data from before we gave them mortality?"

Before Mikhail could answer, there was the sudden sound of teleportation, indicating the usage of a transerver. As if summoned by Thomas' words, four flashes of light filled the room and once they faded, the short Sage stared in growing shock and horror.

Before him, four armored warriors-orange, blue, green and purple respectively-stood strong and proud, armor glistening in the setting sun. Their armors bore more than a passing reference to that of the four legendary Guardians of Neo Arcadia, the children of one of the greatest heroes that had ever lived, but those sentinels of light had never appeared so ominous, nor had they red eyes that seemed to stare directly into the heart or smirks that seemed to freeze the soul itself.

Mikhail knew who they were. They were but four of Albert's 'Chosen Ones', warriors tricked into the Game of Destiny and had attempted to gather Model W together to become the ultimate Mega Man. Each, as the Chosen One of Model A Ashe had reported to them, had their own reasoning for partaking in Albert's fanatical game.

Atlas, the Flame Mega Man and master of Biometal Model F, the soul of Fighting Fefnir. She desired a world of perpetual war, all so that humanity might evolve to become stronger as the strong survive while the weak perish.

Thetis, the Ice Mega Man and holder of Biometal Model L, the spirit of Fairy Leviathan. He wanted to punish humanity for destroying the environment even more so than it already is, committing a mass genocide to allow nature to replenish itself faster without human interference.

Aeolus, the Wind Mega Man and bearer of Biometal Model H, the vessel of Sage Harpuia. He sought to eliminate "the fools of this world", using the time-honored saying of madmen called "survival of the fittest" to justify his actions, killing those he deemed unworthy of upholding humanity's birthright and eliminating conflict.

Siarnaq, the Shadow Mega Man and controller of Biometal Model P, the container of Hidden Phantom. Perhaps the most disturbing of all, his goals for the power of Model W were never revealed to Ashe during any of their encounters, and thus he was the unknown of the group.

Mikhail also knew they were also supposed to be dead, trapped within the collapsing Ouroboros as it sank into the sea. Salvage crews had found no trace of their bodies nor even of Biometal Model Z, which had sacrificed itself to prevent them from killing Ashe or the Model X Chosen One Vent as they made their escape. Vent had even confirmed their deaths personally, and Mikhail saw no reason to doubt the youth.

For them to be here now...so alive and well...could Albert had used the immortality data on each of them? What had Albert done? What had _Thomas_ done, to make them stand so firm along side him?

"Thomas..." Mikhail spluttered, the realization of what Thomas had done taking away his ability to forge any sort of complicated reply, "You...!"

Thomas smiled, and it was not at all pleasant. It was more like a predator bearing its teeth. "Albert was wrong, so I helped the Hunters. But I do think he was right about one thing."

He clenched his left fist together to emphasize his words.

"This world needs to be reset. Join me, Mikhail, let's create a better world together."

"Thomas...why?" Mikhail's mind was racing at several hundred miles an hour, trying to find some reason for any of this, some way to escape. Though he was wasn't exactly defenseless, there was no chance in hell he could stand against all four of them if they attacked at once. And that wasn't considering the chance that they were now immortal...and if there were, then may God have mercy upon this world...

"That should be obvious," Thomas replied, putting his arms down. "Look at the world outside these walls, Mikhail. Have you seen how the people are clamoring in fear? Crime runs rampant, Maverick attacks continue everywhere, and we are spread too thin to properly deal with it. It's just how it's always been: Conflict comes, people panic. The problem is solved, but the public continues to go to bed afraid. Our assurances can't keep back the tide. Not once has the cycle deviated in all our years of rule."

"Yes...everything is how it usually is in these trying times," Mikhail began slowly, moving away from the data as he spoke, but stopped when Thomas slammed his sword into the ground.

"Exactly!" Thomas shouted, jabbing his sword into the floor for extra emphasis, leaving it to stick there. "How many times have we watched this cycle repeat itself over the centuries? How many times has it repeated itself in the past? The Neo Arcadian purges? The Elf Wars? The Maverick Wars? The first coming of synthetic kind? The ancient world wars? The revolutions? How many more times will this cycle repeat itself into the future? We created Legion in a moment of idealism, claiming that we could bring everlasting peace after centuries of war, yet in a mere five years it's as if we're returning to the old days, unraveling over a century's worth of work at least!"

"We can't change human nature, Thomas," Mikhail replied, trying to placate his friend as he continued to slowly move into a better position. He wanted to be prepared in the event one of the Mega Men charged. "We swore that we would uphold those ideals when we first created Legion, but we are still only mortal, and therefore we aren't perfect. There will always be times that bring out the worst as much as the best in people, but that's just what humans and Reploids are. We are not gods, nor were we meant to be. We can only do the best we can to guide people in becoming something better."

The green Mega Man, Aeolus, snorted at those words. The blue one, Thetis, shot him a look, but the orange Atlas seemed almost interested in what he had to say. Siarnaq was silent, his emotionless red eyes fixed on Mikhail as he seemingly waited for an order to attack. It was hard to tell though, considering he had no face to view for expression, but he seemed to be the only one who realized what Mikhail was attempting to do.

Thomas himself seemed to calm down, but any hope Mikhail had that he was truly reaching him was dashed as he slowly shook his head. "Don't you see, old friend? That's why I must do what I must do. Because we're not perfect is why we can't truly save the world, because we're merely mortal we can't change human nature. That's why I need to reset the world. So that we _can _do that."

Mikhail felt a surge of anger at those words. "And how will you do that?" he asked him. "Become a dictator? Force the people to bend to your will? Wipe everyone off the face of the earth?" He gestured towards the Mega Men. "What of them? Will they be your immortal pawns, your enforcers? Your killers? What could you hope to gain? What could _they_ hope to gain?! For god's sake, Thomas, they're only _children_!"

Aeolus started forward, his face twisting into a scowl at being called a 'child', but Thomas held up his hand, stopping him with a glare. Atlas seemed amused as her comrade backed down, if the slight smirk on her face was any indication. Thetis just stood at the ready, and Siarnaq seemed to be subtly tensing up in preparation for a struggle.

The red-haired Sage turned back Mikhail and reached into his coat pocket with that very same hand, as if trying to find something. "You misunderstand, Mikhail. They will not be the instruments of my plan." He then pulled a fist-sized object from his coat.

"_This _is."

As he unclenched his fist, the air in the room, already tense for confrontation, suddenly seemed to chill as a very _wrong _presence made itself known. Shuddering to himself, and noting with increasing worry that even the other Mega Men seemed to recognize this and shuffle a little distance away from Thomas, Mikhail took a moment to gaze upon the object.

It took him but an instant to realize this was a Biometal of some sorts, but not one that he recognized. Of the eight he knew that existed, four of them were in the hands of the Mega Men around them, and it was unlike any of the other four. It was a blocky shape (instantly taking the triangular Models W and A out of the equation) and was also dark brown (in contrast to the reported colors of the blue Model X and red Model Z). However, the brown in question seemed to be less a natural shade and more indication of aging, as if it had been left in the elements for far too long. However, the crystals that formed the 'eyes' as well as the main crystal were both a bright blue, indicating that it was still very much functional.

However, none of that explained why on Earth this thing seemed to be giving off an almost palatable air of menace, in addition to a strange hissing sound as if it were in constant pain. It was not like Model W, which gave off a feeling of fear and hatred that seemed to almost 'leak' out into the air. This felt like raw anger bottled up in a container far too small and ready to burst open at the drop of a pin. There was even what appeared to be a dark-purple aura about the Biometal's edges, as if the energy was taking physical form.

"What is-" Mikhail began, then stopped. He realized there seemed to be some sort of marking along the edges of the Biometal, faded and scratched, but there. He focused, and he sucked in a deep breath when he realized what it was.

A Greek letter. Specifically, the Greek letter Omega (Ω).

"Model O," Thomas supplied helpfully. "The False Mega Man. The soul of the Devil Reploid."

Mikhail shook his head, disbelief running rampant through him. Surely Thomas couldn't...he wouldn't...that thing _couldn't_ be...

"Are you mad, Thomas?!" he shouted. "You would use Omega itself to bring about a better world?! Omega was the definition of insanity, a monster through and through! He was a God of Destruction and the very reason the Elf Wars happened! How can a being who only knows of destruction bring about peace?! Even Albert's plan to use Model W made more sense than this! At least with Model W there was a chance it could be controlled, but Omega obeyed no other but Weil himself! How could you hope to control it, now that its creator's influence has finally passed from this world?"

Atlas stared at the stone in some slight awe. This object contained the data of the most powerful Reploid to ever exist? She was tempted to take a step closer and get a better look, but Model F seemed to resist her efforts, unconsciously whispering to her that she needed to get away now. Atlas resisted the urge to back any further away, as she felt it would be a sign of weakness, but she acquiesced to staying put and her Biometal calmed down slightly. A glance revealed a similar scenario was playing out with the other three, even Siarnaq, a being who professed to no longer understanding fear.

Thomas weathered his colleague's words, resisting the urge to shake his head as his friend seemed to be on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. To be rendered to such a state in front of something so mighty, it was almost pitiful. He then held out the stone further. "You don't understand. Take another look at Model O, and tell me what you see."

The short Sage slowly calmed down and gave the stone another look. What could there possibly be left to see? Metal, crystal, crack-wait, crack?

Yes, sure enough there was a hairline crack running along and over the crystal in the center of Model O 'forehead', for lack of a better term. In addition, the Biometal seemed almost...damaged, for lack of a better term, scorch marks from buster fire and slashes from what might have been a saber. Was that the reason for why it was hissing?

"Model O is a defective Biometal," Thomas clarified. "It's been damaged in some form, no doubt by the very heroes who originally defeated Serpent, and can no longer Megamerge properly, even if I did find it a compatible host. It seems almost dead-set on the bio-signature of a certain hero, and until he dies Model O will resist another host. However, that doesn't mean it's useless. I need only analyze it and unlock the secrets to its power, but for that I need your help, friend."

He lifted his free hand towards him, offering it. "Help me unlock the secrets of Model O, Mikhail. Help me gain the power of the being that rivaled the legendary hero Zero! And with Model Z gone, lost with the Ouroboros, nothing will stop us! We can rebuild the world into a better place, free of evils that continue to plague it!"

Model O actually hissed even louder at the mention of Zero's name, causing Thetis to flinch slightly at the sound. Thomas, however, ignored it. He jabbed his hand back towards the window, towards the smoke that still rose from the city, almost beautiful in a disturbing way in the setting sun. He used that hand to tap at the window panel, bringing up digital videos of what was going on in the lands below and beyond. Videos were brought up, live footage of people dying in the streets as homes were pillaged by mavericks and irregulars alike. A number of humans were working alongside the hostile machines, ordering lesser mechaniloids to carry out brutal tasks. Mikhail watched in horror as criminals exchanged pillaged goods around, while cruel-looking reploids were rifling through the possessions of the dead. Men, women and children, human and reploid alike, laid dead as the hostile forces continued their work, cleaning out the community slowly and methodically, as if they had done this countless times before. Things couldn't have gotten this bad, surely!

"You spoke of human nature? Look out there. Word spreads that Legion is doomed. Humans and mavericks working together to ravage the land and take what they want, murdering innocents for simply getting in the way. Do you see anyone making them do this? No! Albert is gone and Model W destroyed, but who is to blame for the same wrongs this time? _This_ is what human nature is really like, Mikhail, what people become unless managed with order and control!"

Reeling in shock at both Thomas' accusations and the images, Mikhail took a step away, hand raised to his head as he tried to make sense of what he had seen, internally growing sick. He was a peaceful man by nature, and such violence always made him ill. But the question had been asked: Was Thomas right, or was something more that was going on, something they had overlooked in their frenzied examinations of Albert's work? He flinched as he caught a glimpse of a human man gun down a reploid family, moving along with a pack of obedient galleons.

He spared a glance towards the other Mega Men, trying to gauge their reactions. Thetis looked almost as uncomfortable as he did, while Atlas' face and eyes were set in a stony expression, as if remembering an event from her past. Aeolus looked at it with a frown, while Siarnaq was as emotionless as before. Thomas simply bore a grim smile, and he turned towards Mikhail, arms spread out comfortably.

"Help stop this mindless violence, old friend. Let us show the people that the irrational fear that grips them is just that, irrational! With the work Albert left behind, we can work together to fix this-end the madness, but only if we are together."

Noticing his former comrade's continued reluctance, he then gestured to the Mega Men in the room. "If need be, I can always convince you to see things my way," he added. "But I would much rather you make this choice of your own free will, without such methods." His face then softened, and for a moment it was like he was back to old self. "Please, Mikhail. I need you. The world needs you."

Thomas sounded so sure, so sincere. He genuinely believed what he was going to do was the best thing for the world.

But Mikhail saw the madness in his friend's eyes. He realized that the desire for peace coupled with so many years of hardship had twisted his colleague, whether or not Albert had something to do with it was irrelevant. There were ways to peace, but this was not in any way one of them. Especially not if it involved Destruction Incarnate.

And so, he knew what his answer was even before he had tried to rationalize that this was his friend who was asking, that perhaps there was merit to the idea on some level.

"...I'm sorry, Thomas," Mikhail finally said, having moved himself so that he was directly facing across from his friend, perhaps two meters of space separating him from the Mega Men in the room. "But I can't do it. I cannot, _will not_ join in this madness. I can't let you become another Albert."

"...So," Thomas began, his voice thick with betrayal. "You too have succumbed to the evil, eh?"

"The only evil that is plaguing the people is the type the likes of Albert and you bring about trying to 'help' them; the type that makes them think they have no other choice to survive out there!" Mikhail shouted, his temper getting the better of him, but he refused to be seen as a traitor. "Don't you dare assume I've turned against them!"

"Too late, old friend," Thomas replied, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You just did."

Mikhail did the only thing he could think of. He snapped his key cane forward, pressing the button on the side. In an instant, the end part transformed to reveal a barrel, a laser shot already charging inside of it. Mikhail's three eyes locked directly onto to Thomas, taking aim for his old friend's heart. He was aware that the other four Mega Men were also reacting, raising their weapons in preparation for attack, but he didn't care.

Even if he died here, it would be stopping this madness before it began.

"Don't kill him!" Thomas shouted, eyes widening as he realized what Mikhail was about to do. Despite his words, he couldn't bring himself to watch his only other friend die. There was still a chance he could be convinced to see the light in time, to understand that although what needed to be done was horrific, was still necessary to bring about peace. Not to mention the fact he still needed Mikhail alive for the data he had managed to obtain from Albert's studies.

The four Mega Men hesitated, but Mikhail didn't.

He pressed the button, watching as the green laser fired from the barrel. He didn't get a chance to survey his work though, because he was suddenly aware of the fact that Siarnaq was already in front of him, an energy kunai raised to strike. Mikhail snapped his cane front of himself to block, but the Shadow Mega Man was only forced to divert his course slightly. Mikhail grunted in pain as the blade bit into his right shoulder, slicing down along his arm and forcing him to drop his weapon. He scrambled to grab it as he fell down, but he was rewarded with both a foot coming down onto it, crushing the gun area, and another foot smashing into his gut, sending him flying away.

Mikhail coughed as he came to painful stop, smashing into a pillar. Blood leaked down his right arm, and he realized he couldn't move it anymore, only getting searing pain as he tried, all while his ears were ringing painfully. He looked up, expecting to see his life flash before his eyes as a blade impaled him, but nothing came. Instead, he was greeted to the sight of Siarnaq with his hands over his head, as if trying to block out some sort of sound.

It took him a moment to realize that the ringing still hadn't stopped, but was rather increasing. It took him another moment to realize it wasn't so much ringing as it was _screaming _and that it was coming from where Thomas was.

To his surprise, Thomas didn't look harmed, aside from his eyes being shut in pain from whatever was making that noise, arm held out in front of him while his free one was on the side of his head. The other three Mega Men were also in various stages of pain, eyes shut as the noise got louder. Finally, Mikhail focused on where the sound seemed to be originating from, and his eyes widened at the sight.

Model O was literally vibrating, the screams so powerful they were shaking its form. Where the main crystal was there were only shattered remnants now, still smoking from where a shot had impacted. Mikhail realized that Thomas, by chance or reflex, had moved his hands in front of himself an effort to block his attack, and had managed to somehow get the Biometal shot instead.

Mikhail had no idea what would happen if he stayed any longer, but he doubted it would be any good. Grabbing the head of his cane, he forced himself to ignore the noise and began inputting a set of coordinates. One of the advantages of being one of the Sage Trinity meant you carried around your own private transerver to be used at your leisure. Never before had he'd been so glad for that privilege.

As he desperately fought both exhaustion and pain to complete the coordinates, the noise got louder and louder, then seemed to almost peak. Mikhail realized instinctively that something very bad was gonna happen, and he didn't wait to see what it was. He had only managed to get about half the coordinates in, but he realized he wouldn't have the time to finish.

With a silent prayer, he pressed the button, his vision filling with a familiar light. At the same moment, the scream promptly cut off. Right before Mikhail saw nothing but that light, he swore he saw the Biometal crack before it shattered into pieces.

The next thing he knew, he was gone, and all he could was pray he hadn't just teleported himself to an early grave. That would have been embarrassing.

* * *

Thomas screamed as his hand felt like it had been set on fire. Model O had exploded with all the force of a hand grenade, and his hand had paid the price for it. With a curse he threw whatever was left of it to the ground and cradled his hand, eyes shut as he tried to think through the pain. Around him, he heard swears as shots were fired, glass shattering as they apparently connected with the window, shutting off the sounds of the videos in a burst of static.

"The hell was that?!" one of the Mega Man, Thetis he believed, shouted, right before gasping in pain. "Ah! Crap...what just happened?!"

"That piece of metal is what happened, Thetis!" a female voice, Atlas, snapped back, coughing as she did so. "The old fart went and-wait, where'd he go? Siarnaq, where'd he go?!"

"DETECTION OF TRANSERVER WARP," the Reploid's machine voice intoned. "MASTER MIKHAIL HAS LEFT THE PREMISES."

'Left? Then that means...' Thomas' face warped into one of anger and rage. Mikhail was gone. Mikhail, the one he had trusted and now betrayed him, was gone. And that no doubt meant-

'No, I won't let him stop me!' "Siarnaq!" he barked, getting the Mega Men's attentions. "Go after Mikhail! Bring him to me alive if at all possible, dead if-"

"Wait, what are those?" Aeolus's surprised voice cut through the anger overtaking his mind, causing Thomas to open his eyes. He turned his head to snap at the youth for letting Mikhail get away, but he stopped when he noticed the look on his face. Turning in the direction that Aeolus was looking, he realized that the other three had stopped talking and were staring as well. And once he got a good look, he couldn't blame them.

Over the shattered pieces of what had been Model O, five brightly-colored lights were forming, seemingly gathering together from the dark aura that had originally surrounded the Biometal. All of them started out as white, but slowly began to shift to different colors: Black, Orange-Blue, Purple, White and Red. Then, they began to take on more distinct, humanoid shapes, aided as the physical fragments of the Biometal seemed to float upwards into each individual light, absorbing into them as they transformed.

Thomas realized what they were: Cyber-elves, sentient programs of pure energy capable of empowering machinery. But he had never seen Cyber-elves that looked like this. For one, they were already fully developed despite having just been 'born', and they were much larger than normal, each slightly larger than the size of the original Model O.

One was jet-black with the glowing face of a beautiful woman concealed within its flickering form. Spherical in form, the digital creation was a simple ball of shadow with a white light inside, floating silently in the air. Crimson energy crackled around its shape, causing hairs to stand on end upon feeling the energy.

Another was very similar to it in form, being spherical and jet-black, but it was _two _spheres instead of one, both half the size of the first Cyber-elf. One form seemed to literally be engulfed in orange flame while the other emitted a bitter blue frost, yet both seemed to cancel each other out. The two spheres constantly floated about each other but never truly separated, as if they were one being that had somehow split apart. Twirling about, they seemed joyous at their freedom, floating around eagerly as if they were children.

The third had a far more humanoid shape, appearing almost as a purple cloaked man or woman, though it was hard to tell due to its thin form and long hair. It gazed about intelligently, and seemed to radiate a sense of profound regret, so strong that those watching found themselves shifting uncomfortably as it turned its eyes upon them, even Siarnaq. It floated some ways away, as if seeking to distance itself from the other elves.

The fourth light continued the humanoid trend, though the effect was lost somewhat due to the pair of wings that were attached to its back, in the form of a mighty angel of some sort. The elf itself took on a form of an armored warrior, white and golden armor with various smaller wing attachments upon it, with the only true break in color being the blue helmet on its head, extremely reminiscent, minus wing attachments, of that of the helmet upon Model X's Megamerged form. In comparison to the previous one though, it seemed to radiate confidence and arrogance and took its position near the center, as if trying to draw everyone's attention to it.

And while it was certainly amazing looking, its hopes were dashed as everyone's attention were truly focused on the last Cyber-elf. Reminiscent of the legendary hero Zero, it bore his features, but the noble visage was somehow twisted and hateful. Hissing viciously, it called out to its brethren as if ordering them to return. Master Thomas reacted instantly, his hands clamping down onto the digital being before it could make any sort of escape, despite his injuries. The Cyber Elf howled as it was caught, immediately struggling to break free as it battled against his strength.

Thomas' eyes snapped towards the other Mega Men, who simply stared at him dumbly. "Don't just stand there, catch them!" he snapped, and the four youths reacted at his orders. However, the other elves hadn't been idle in watching their fellow get captured, and they immediately attempted to take off, screeching in anger and desperate to avoid the same fate.

Atlas fumbled, her hands too slow to grasp the purple one as it dashed between her legs and shot out of the window. Aeolus took flight in an effort to capture the white one, and it became a game of cat and mouse as they twirled about the ceiling area. Thetis slammed his halberd into the ground, creating ice pillars in an effort to trap the black one, but a burst of electricity from it was enough to give it time to zip past the obstacle and right by his face out the window. Turning his head to watch it go and too slow to react, he caught a glimpse of Siarnaq leaping forward after it, trying to grab the orange/blue one that was following it and failing, almost tumbling over the edge. The Model P user had managed to keep up with his during their own chase, almost catching it a few times before it gave him the slip. Finally, the white one used the ice pillars as a distraction to stall Aeolus, and it too joined its brethren in freedom.

Hauling himself up from the broken edge, Siarnaq skulked back into the room as Master Thomas stiffen with anger. The four youths watched him warily as he stormed across the room, grabbing a small container and roughly tossing the Cyber-elf into it. The Zero-like being tumbled a few times before stopping, snarling angrily at its rough treatment as Thomas slammed the lid on. Finally, he heavily sat down with a sigh, his eyes turning towards the data Mikhail had been analyzing as he went over his options.

Model O was useless to him now, though perhaps that had been a poor idea from the start, given that he couldn't even properly use it in its current form. He still had Legion's armies, along with four willing Mega Men, but without Model O's power to back him up that plan still had roadblocks, especially if the Guardians, Hunters, Vent and Ashe got involved, which they inevitably would. What unnerved him was the fact was that not only had Model O been destroyed, but had birthed five new Cyber-elves, something he hadn't believed could even be possible. Master Mikhail was gone, and without him Thomas was honestly at a loss at how to properly proceed, especially if Mikhail managed to reach those who would oppose him. Of the two of them, it had been Mikhail who had made the most progress on Albert's data, and time wasn't on his side in this game.

His ultimate plan had definitely been delayed, perhaps even ruined, before his eyes settled onto the imprisoned Cyber-elf, which glared at him hatefully.

...Perhaps Model O itself was no longer an option, but that didn't mean this Cyber-elf was useless to him. Maybe with it, he could gain enough data to recreate the device to his own specifications, perhaps even begin the restoration of the original Omega. It was possible, and the likelihood would only increase if he had the other Elves. They were an unknown quantity, but that could easily change. His mind working thousands of times faster than his original human brain ever did, a multitude of solutions came to him within seconds, each with various levels of success, and he relaxed slowly.

First things first though, he would have to bring back Master Mikhail, though preferably alive so that he would have time to understand his point of view. On a more pragmatic view though, he really had only need of the brain. Mikhail had analyzed the data faster, especially some of the unique information Ashe had sent them, than he had and it would go much smoother if he didn't have to waste time going back over data already obtained.

"Siarnaq!" he called out, causing the other three teenagers to look towards their colleague curiously. At once the Model P user stood at attention, awaiting the man's instructions obediently. Thomas nodded his head approvingly.

"Find Master Mikhail and bring him back alive if at all possible. If that proves to be too troublesome, I'll settle for his head, but he must not be allowed to let our enemies know of our plans. Go now, and deal with him quickly."

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

With that, the Shadow Mega Man teleported out of the room. Aeolus, Atlas, and Thetis looked at one another slowly, wondering what missions they would receive. Remaining seated, Master Thomas appeared to ignore them as he picked up the capsule containing the Cyber-elf to examine it carefully, locking eyes with the raging program. As the Model H user coughed politely to him know they were still there, the Sage looked towards them at last.

"You three, go and get some rest. Those Cyber-elves will be are long gone by now and you won't be able to track them at this time of night. The riots out there are getting worse, and the last thing we need is for one of you to start drawing unwanted attention should the Guardians be out and about dealing with mavericks...yes, Thetis?" he asked suddenly, surprising the smallest Biomatch. "Is there some reason you seemed to be almost worried?"

The blue-haired teen glanced about for a moment, then gulped. "Umm...do you want me to something about the ice?"

Thomas glanced about and realized that the ice pillars from his ill-fated efforts to capture the Cyber-elves were still in the room.

"If possible," he replied.

Thetis nodded and, ignoring Atlas' snicker, quickly pointed his halberd towards the ice, forcing it to dissolve. Unfortunately, that also meant it turned to water, which quickly dribbled into the carpet.

Thomas shut his eyes for a moment and counted to five. When he opened them, Thetis looked like he was expecting to get spanked and Atlas seemed to be holding back laughter. Even Aeolus had a slight smirk.

"Just go," he said simply.

Thetis nodded and quickly made his way towards the door, followed by a chuckling Atlas and amused Aeolus. Thomas watched as the Flame Mega Man playfully shoved her Ice counterpart through the door, leaving him alone.

He sighed. "To think, after so many hundred years these carpets would be ruined by a clumsy little brat..." he muttered as he turned his attention back to the data. Held captive inside its container, the Cyber-elf watched him with narrowed eyes, hissing slightly as it tried to guess at what the Sage had in mind. Thomas in turn ignored it, and began to plan once more.

* * *

"Gahh!" Ashe cried out, suddenly waking up with a gasp. Outside, a loud rumble of thunder echoed, perpetrated by the ever-present fall of raindrops as the storm continued onwards. Ashe sat up straight for several minutes, listening to the patter of the rain on the metallic roof of her quarters like gunfire as her heart slowed back down to normal.

Rubbing her tired green eyes, the Hunter wiped the cold sweat that had gather on her brow, remembering that she was safe and sound in bed at home and nothing bad was happening. "Damn nightmares..." she muttered to herself, hand to her forehead as she rubbed her face. "Can't even let me get some sleep..."

It had been a while since she'd had _that_ one, but she remembered it clear as day. It was the same one she had often had as a small child and had plagued her randomly throughout her years as an adult. Half-dreams, half-memories of gunfire and screams filled her mind as she had tried to hide from the machines that had destroyed her hometown, darkness everywhere no matter how hard she looked. She remembered warm gentle arms wrapping about her trembling form as a soft voice tried to assure her everything was alright, a blurry face comforting her as she and the mother she could barely remember tried to hide from the carnage. Eventually, the noises quietened, and every time that Ashe thought it was alright, a pair of red eyes would appear in the darkness as another person savagely ripped her from the woman, carrying her away as she screamed and fought to go back. And then, in the darkness, a second pair of eyes would join the first, someone screamed, the sound of blood splattered across the grass...and then nothing.

It had been a common enough nightmare that she could remember every detail, but not once had she ever been able to sleep peacefully without bolting upright when it happened. However, it had been several years since the last time she had it and had almost completely forgotten about, although she suspected the battle with Master Albert had unsettled her enough that she had started to try and remember what her family had been like years ago. Complete monster or not, he had still been the only living family she had left, and with his death it meant she really was alone in the world, biologically speaking.

Or, she reflected irritably as the thunder boomed overhead again and she clamped a pillow down over her ears to block out the constant platter of rain, it might just be that the lack of sleep thanks to the growing number of Mavericks out there was finally catching up to her. A few nights of peaceful sleep weren't too much to ask for when you had saved the world, but apparently the rogue groups of Irregulars that were gathering around the edges of the Hunters Camp borders day by day, keeping her and her friends busy as the Hunters tried to thin their numbers thought differently. Why exactly they were appearing was beyond her; Master Albert and Model W were _gone_,leaving nobody none the wiser as to why their numbers were still growing...

With a sigh, the silverette curled up underneath the blankets, groaning in pain as she felt something hard underneath her. Flushing out Model A, the Copy Biometal's eyes glowed as it awakened, peering around the bedroom curiously as it sensed her unease. The mechanical device was highly attuned to Ashe's senses, able to feel her emotions as though feeling them itself if they were strong enough. The Biometal was silent as Ashe placed it on the table beside the bed, watching her as she turned around and flopped back onto the bed.

_"Hey Ashe, are you alright?"_ it asked quietly, noticing how she was trembling faintly under the covers. _"Did you have some sort of nightmare?"_

"It's...it's nothing, Model A. Just a silly dream I haven't had in long time," she said quietly before sighing again. The Biometal tilted innocently, floating up from its resting place as it tried to get a better look as its Chosen's face.

_"Well...do you want to talk about it? I mean, that's what I'm here for, right?"_ it asked again, genuine concern in its tone as it floated back down to land beside her. Ashe turned her head to look at it, allowing a small smile to cross her face. Who would have thought that her best friend would literally be a floating hunk of metal?

"Nah, it's okay. I can barely remember what it was about anyways," she lied, not wanting to worry her little friend. "Besides, I don't even know why I thought about it tonight. It was just one of those things that comes around at random, you know? I think the last time I had it was years ago. So yeah, I'm fine, really. Thanks though."

_"Well...if you're sure you're okay, Ashe, then that's fine by me. I know things have been hard on you lately, but don't think I can't help out. I-I mean...there's no reason you should keep your problems are bottled up and stuff..."_ Model A replied, its voice growing more and more hesitant as if it was considering asking for something. Ashe quirked and eyebrow and her smile slowly changed to a smirk, noticing with increasing interest that the little Biometal couldn't seem to keep still on the covers it was on. Overhead, another rumble of thunder sounded, louder this time, causing Model A to flinch slightly.

"Looks like someone wants something..." Ashe said in a sing-song voice. Model A twitched guilty, then seemed to look up towards the ceiling as the rain came down harder and harder.

_"Look...uh, could I maybe...sleep with you tonight? Just tonight though! It's not like I'm scared or anything, I just...really don't like how loud that storm's getting, that's all!"_

Another blast of thunder sounded almost directly overhead, as if a cannon was firing off. Model A visibly cringed that time, almost shivering as the echoes faded away. Ashe continued to smirk, but a pang of pity overcame her amusement.

"Yeah, yeah, come on you little hero," she told it, sitting upright to allow Model A enough room to settle in comfortably. "Who knows, maybe it was the storm that made me have that dream. Maybe with you here with me, I won't think about it again."

Gratefully, Model A disappeared underneath the warm sheets, reappearing again as it nestled against the silver-haired girl. "_Ah, much better. Way warmer and comfier than that table. Goodnight Ashe, and thanks..."_ it said as it yawned, 'eyes' dimming as it settled into sleep.

"Goodnight to you too, Model A," Ashe whispered softly, hugging the little Biometal as she began to drift off to sleep too, a smile appearing on her face as she rubbed her fingers along its dark shell softly, grateful for the company. Outside, the storm continued to rage as torrential rainfall plummeted the Hunter's Camp, but the two heroes within were oblivious to it as it continued through the long night, sleeping soundly until the dawn of the new day. It was only a storm after all, and in their shelter they couldn't possibly be hurt by it.

Unbeknownst to either Ashe or Model A however, as they slept peacefully, far away in a distant land another silver-haired person was beginning to awaken, green eyes slowly opening to the break of day. Little did he or they know that the biggest journey of their lives was about to begin, nor how their fates would become entwined.

* * *

**End chapter. I admit, anyone familiar with MMZX Aspects of Omega will realize that this is extremely based on the first chapter, but that story hasn't been updated in over two years, and I'm sad to say is most likely dead or on long-term hiatus. I'm writing this story in tribute to it, and while things will seem very similar to it on the surface, such as Vent and Ashe being the Chosen Ones of Model X and A respectively, I'm happy to say that it will eventually evolve into its own thing, particularly in the form of new OCs replacing the ones the original story had.**

**Until then though, I hope that you guys will stick around.**

**And no, I have not abandoned my other fics, though at this rate I'll probably have a heart attack trying to finish them all up. Don't worry, Fate Stay Nightmare will be updated soon enough.**

**Review, fav, and follow people! I hope you guys enjoy.**


	2. Return of a Hero

**Hello everybody, this is X the Reaper, bringing you the second chapter of Mega Man ZX3: Omega's Ascension!**

**Disclaimer: Mega Man and all its sub-series belong to Capcom. The original idea for this belongs to the author Kuraselache. X the Reaper owns nothing.**

**Alright, let's go!**

* * *

Giga Arcadia. One of the largest cities in the world and widely renowned as the fastest growing in hundreds of years since the great Utopia known as Neo Arcadia was annihilated by the orbital space cannon Ragnarok at the climax of the final war between humans and reploids. Strongly reminiscent of the ancient city in more than just name, Giga Arcadia was now seen by many as a beacon of progress and safety that had once been attributed to its namesake of two centuries ago. It wasn't always that way though, as until recently the tropical region that the great city was situated in was known merely by the name of _Arcadia _up until a few years ago.

Originally beginning life as a small island community set deep in the heartland of the southern tropics, Arcadia was a quiet region where aging humans and reploids could retire from the bustling city life of places like Cinq Ville. The distant location of the isles meant that the inhabitants were also relatively safe from the threat of mavericks, due to the fact few of the hostile machines possessed the means to travel that far from the continental mainlands, and so it was often considered by many to be a suitable vacation or resting spot for those just trying to get away from the struggles of fighting for a living. Not surprisingly, some of the most frequent visitors were from the likes of Guardians or Hunters looking to spend some well-earned crystals and relax on the beaches half-naked out of armor or simply observe others in similar positions.

However, Arcadia's idyllic peace soon came to an end in recent years as the islands experienced an explosion in both population and economic terms. Smaller cities throughout the world had been overrun, devastated not only by increasingly coordinated maverick attacks but also from within as civilians struggled to get by on dwindling resources. Technically, there shouldn't have been any shortages at all, for the Energy Crisis had long ago been solved thanks to the development of the world-renowned C.I.E.L System by the scientist and war hero of the same name, which was later mass-produced and sent around the world by Slither Inc. That was until the company had suddenly been destroyed in a massive and mysterious assault roughly four years ago and resulted in the overloading of one of the biggest C.I.E.L Systems around the world, which in turn resulted in many smaller units that had drawn power from the main plant to either shut down or explode.

This caused energy production to grind slowly down to a halt until similar units could be mass-produced and distributed globally. Although Cinq Ville, the city that had drawn power directly from the main plant, had quickly rebuilt from the devastating attack and global energy production began to increase once new systems were developed, riots quickly broke out after a series of terrorist attacks committed by dangerously intelligent Mechaniloids caused people to believe the dangerous Maverick raids from decades ago were starting up again.

While Legion sought to assure the populace that everything was under control, even they couldn't commit the vast resources necessary to rebuilding so many damaged communities at once, nor could they simultaneously aid in effectively pushing back the increasing aggressive attacks committed by the feral machines. While the Guardians and other military forces dedicated themselves to protecting civilians and purging the occupied Irregular areas, the surviving refugees that didn't join them as volunteers fled to safety overseas, seeking sanctuary as far away from the whine of buster fire and threat of war until the dangers could be contained safely. Arcadia was one such place, a distant series of exotic islands located in the southern hemisphere, offshore the coastline of what had once been called Southeast Asia.

However, Arcadia did not truly receive its new name of 'Giga' until the roughly a year ago, when several attacks hit major locations throughout the areas that had once been called Europe and North America. A massive influx of refugees allowed Arcadia to swiftly evolve from a slowly growing minor community to a burgeoning metropolis and continued to grow as people, whether by forced circumstance or paranoid caution, sought safety within the isolated region. While the innermost city was formed primarily of old housing and the original settlements, new apartments and buildings were constructed at a rapid pace, expanding outwards from the formerly peaceful resting places and spilling across former borders into the surrounding environment. Enclosed on all sides by thick jungle and mountainous terrain, the city was nestled quite safely within the island's heart while simultaneously protected by the natural formations of jagged reefs, steep cliffs and powerful ocean currents. Such features made the offshore tropics a danger to even _reach_, much less attack, and so the inhabitants were rather secure in the knowledge that they were safe, at least relatively speaking, from maverick attacks.

As the population neared twenty million and rising, it wasn't long before the city (a term which had grown to denote the main island _and_ many of the surrounding ones) was finally christened as _Giga_ Arcadia, both in honor of the original foundations upon which the city had been and the historical civilization of centuries past that had attempted to foster peace between Humans and Reploids. Unlike the original Neo Arcadia, Giga Arcadia had no need of an Eden Dome; the weather patterns were pleasant year round and the isolated location rendered threat of Maverick attacks, while not void, extremely unlikely, even in the event of an aerial assault. Equally unlike its predecessor, Giga Arcadia was a place humans and reploids _peacefully_ coexisted, working together as one race to develop their new home, unlike the dystopian regime that Neo Arcadia had eventually sunk into.

As the months passed, refugees continued to pour into the islands at an increasing pace, fighting around the world intensifying all while those who wanted no part of it fled. Mass expansion had now become a necessity in order to sustain the new population growth. Ironically though, many of the new arrivals had no idea _who_ exactly was in charge of Giga Arcadia. Yes, there was a citizen's council and there were officials who were in charge of various areas of importance, from residence development to settler comfort, proper food cultivation to environmental protection, overseas communication to international immigration, but all of these beings in truth answered to one man, who was considered undisputed president for his efforts in aiding the growing city's transformation into a metropolis and its continued defense.

Sharp-eyed and no-nonsense taking, James Walker had quickly gained popularity with the local authorities after he arrived from the Outlands with the offer of installing a prototype C.I.E.L system for the locals. As the Slither Inc. plant had recently experienced its massive energy overload, the cause of which was either still unknown or simply undisclosed to the public, the Arcadians had leapt at the opportunity to have a massive source of clean energy so soon. Despite some skeptics saying it was too good to be true and that Walker was simply attempting to grab power in the islands, even they had to begrudging admit that the system, one of the few that worked on a mass scale, was in fact the real deal and provided not only enough power to Arcadia, but even to several nearby countries several times over.

This act had made Walker a sort of folk hero, but his true claim to fame did not come until the Maverick attacks of the previous year, when he had been one of those who suggested that Arcadia should further develop in accommodate the surviving refugees so that the Guardians could focus on the worldwide Maverick threat unhindered. While Walker was not the first to voice such ideas, he was one of its driving proponents and soon became the face of the movement, and when Legion had agreed and donated plentiful funds and resources so establishing such a safehaven for citizens worldwide could become a reality, he was at the head of the reform and development movements to make it possible. From there on, Walker had only advanced his position, always careful to appeal to both the public and to the nature of the politicians-until it was suddenly apparent to the latter that _he _was now the one in charge as a new military group appeared with the pledge of protecting the newborn region from harm, himself at the head.

However, while the politicians squirmed uneasily at being outmaneuvered by an outsider and many of the original populace bemoaned the overcrowded mess that their once-tranquil islands had become, the refugees viewed their newfound president and his military force with approval. Many of them signed up into his employ immediately to help bolster his forces's numbers and do their part in safeguarding their new homeland, both from within and without. The fact that there was much less a chance of an attack actually happening and that the chance for a warm meal and bed was essentially confirmed, plus pay, likely played a large role in recruitment. In addition, Walker for his part was a more or less fair leader, so there was little true discontent to be had from the population. Sentient beings had long had a habit of gravitating towards the strong after all, and there was little doubt in anyone's mind that James Walker was _the_ strongest presence in Giga Arcadia.

With Master Albert's defeat, many had thought that peace was all but inevitable and that the refugees would at last be able to return home to begin the process of rebuilding their lives, but the attacks worldwide had not decreased. In fact, they seemed to be increasing at rates not seen since the ancient Maverick Wars of centuries ago, which had lead to rising fears that another apocalypse-level catastrophe was on the rise. And so Giga Arcadia continued to flourish, with thousands arriving at the city gates daily. While overpopulation was fast becoming a concern, so too was the fear of global war breaking out. For many, it had become not so much a matter of _if_ it would happen as one of _when_.

* * *

It was upon such a scene that the tropical sun rose a quiet morning, flooding the bustling streets of the city with golden hues. The sky shone like sapphires as the dawn chased the fading stars away, and as the nocturnal life of Giga Arcadia retired at the coming of day, the majority of its inhabitants awoke to begin yet another small chapter of their lives. Yet despite such tranquility a strange eerie stillness seemed to hang in the air, only palatable to the observant but still managing to cast a subconscious sense of tension upon even the most oblivious of refugees, despite not knowing why.

The pair of guards that stood at the ready near one of the city gates was an example of such tension. Both were human males, one decked in maroon armor while the other was in an orange assembly, both carrying a standard issue buster rifle in hand. Known to all as the Freelancers, the joint Human/Reploid force in the employ of the city's president, both men were members of the elite guard tasked with defending the borders of Giga Arcadia from any and all potential attacks. The maroon one, named Simmons, was brown-haired and brown-eyed, his hair showing some grey near the back as he casually rubbed it from where it stuck out under his helmet. His expression was one of alertness, though tinged with boredom as he scanned the road and jungle before him, leaning back against the wall to get in the shade, pointedly ignoring his fellow brown-headed companion. His name was Grif, though Simmons could think of several other names for him as he watched the yellow soldier pop what looked like some sort of sugar cookie into his mouth over his open helmet, his eyes displaying just boredom as he stared ahead.

"Seriously man?" Simmons couldn't help but ask. "Not fifteen minutes after we had breakfast and you're already snacking down?"

"Hey, it's hot and I'm bored," Grif replied with a flippant tone, his eyes casually scanning the horizon and the roads for any signs of movement, though it was obvious it was more a reflex than anything. While both of them were equipped to deal with any potential attack, at least long enough to send for reinforcements, it still didn't change the fact that the chances of an actual Maverick attack were about as high as Santa Claus coming into town for his winter vacation. Not very likely, and both of them knew it. "I gotta pass the time somehow. Kinda wish something would come jumping out of those trees, just to break the boredom."

Simmons glanced over at the mentioned trees, as if daring Murphy to make Grif eat his words. No such luck, so he settled for sighing. "Stop complaining. The work's easy enough and we're doing a good enough job just standing here. If the refugees are happy, that makes the boss happy, which is good for us. What more do you want?"

"Probably an air-conditioned suit," Grif grumbled through his munching, fumbling with his collar as he leaned against the wall, trying to avoid the sun's direct rays. "Lord knows we could use and afford a few."

Simmons couldn't disagree with that, especially as he found himself shifting to get deeper into the shade. It was only about 8:30 and it already felt like an oven. Silence fell over them for a few minutes as they sought to find new positions, then Grif spoke again.

"Hey?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever wonder why we're here?"

Simmons shot him a confused look, so he elaborated. "I mean, here, just standing guard at a post where we're barbecuing in our suits. I mean, I thought we signed up for this shtick to make a difference, not sit around on our asses. Like, I signed up because I thought I would be, you know, fighting Mavericks."

"I thought it was the idea of an easy job," Simmons countered. Grif shrugged in defeat.

"That too, yeah. But I kinda just feel...cheated. I mean, there are guys like you and me, fighting for their lives across the ocean, all to take back the lands that belonged to us, despite not having any real stake in it. If anything, we should be fighting alongside them, yet we're just standing here all safe, talking while waiting for our next case of heatstroke."

Simmons had to admit, his partner had a point. The two of them had originally met back in what was had once been called western North America, but two of the many refugees fleeing the country after a massive maverick surge. Simmons didn't have any family to speak of, but Grif had had a little sister who, while they had never been close, went missing during the exodus. They had stuck up a sort of rapport and had held together during the hard times, eventually arriving here and joining the Freelancers. He still missed his old home and part of him wanted to go back, though he had to be honest with himself when he remembered that his life meant more to him than his home.

"Yeah...but hey, if worse comes to worse like they're saying, Giga Arcadia will probably be one of the few safe locations left. Then you and me will probably be reassigned outside the region, helping the Guardians take back all of Inner Peace."

"Either way, it definitely beats frying in the sun like this," Grif grumbled, running a hand through his brown hair as he quickly chomped on another cookie. Simmons was about to add that frying in the sun would be the least of his worries if someone caught him lazying around like that when a flicker of motion in the distance caught his attention. He quickly pushed off the wall and prepared to bring his rifle to bear, Grif hurriedly following his example as he he tried to put his helmet back on while finishing his snack, but they both relaxed when they realized it was a false alarm. Ahead of them was a jeep carrying two similarly-clad soldiers, albeit with different colored armors, that made them realize it was just a pair of reinforcements returning from their overnight patrol around the jungle borders. Resuming previous positions, Simmons and Grif waited until the newcomers, one female human in aqua armor and one male reploid in cobalt armor, finally reached the city gates. Grif noted with some amusement that both of them were covered in sweat, pleased that he wasn't the only one suffering in this heat, but he refrained from showing it due to the identity of the guards in question.

"Captain Carolina, Lieutenant Church," Simmons said with a note of respect, snapping off a swift salute, Grif belatedly following suit.

"None of that today, Corporal," Carolina replied, running a hand through her damp red hair as she noted their conditions. "Good to see that you're both standing guard."

"You know us, Semper Fi and all that," Grif replied cheekily, quickly holding up a tin of cookies. "Want one?"

The woman shook her head while the man obliged, quickly munching on them. "Sheesh," he, Church, noted. "If it were anyone else coming over here, you'd be reported in a heartbeat."

Church, like Simmons and Grif, was one of the many volunteers who had joined the Freelancers after they had been established. Originally from Cinq Ville, he had first arrived here when Slither Inc had gone under, working out a life as a desk jockey before Walker had begun offering jobs in his security force. His skills at organization had allowed him to advance moderately fast into the force, and he had the privilege of being one of the few refugees who had had an opportunity to meet the president face-to-face and speak to him.

Carolina, on the other hand, had apparently been part of the band that Walker had first lead into Arcadia back when he brought the C.I.E.L. System here. Despite this, she seemed most comfortably working at the rank-and-file level, often being one of the first to be sent on scouting patrols or, like today, inspecting the conduct of soldiers who were supposed to be doing such jobs. She had been in charge of training the group that Grif and Simmons had been a part of, and she had seemed to have gained a soft spot towards them, enough that she'd be somewhat lenient in her surveys.

"I'll let it slide for today," Carolina said, her eyes on him. "Both the treats and the fact that you're eating them, thus making you an accomplice."

Church muttered something inaudible as he finished munching. Simmons decided to get things back on track as he tilted his head to look at their jeep.

"Hey, wasn't there a third guy with you?" he asked, getting their attention. "I'm pretty sure the patrol group for this area was supposed to be three..."

"Huh, you're right," Grif added, though whether because he actually noticed or simply didn't want to look like an idiot for not knowing was unclear. "No problem with any Mavericks out there, I hope?"

Church rubbed the back of his head. "Nothing more than usual, though some of the surveillance 'bots detected some weird frequency reading down at the southernmost beach. Washington went on ahead to check, but he told us to go back and report this."

"Washington?" Simmons asked. "You mean Commander Washington?"

"Is there another?" Church sarcastically asked. "Specifically one that wears grey armor with yellow highlights despite this heat?"

Washington was another old member of the Freelancers, and like Carolina had been with Walker from damn near the beginning. Unlike Carolina though, he always seemed to work at a distance, never really speaking or interacting with anyone save when it was required. The fact he had gone with them on a simple patrol was rather strange to be honest.

"Came to me and directly asked to be part of it," Church answered when Simmons said that last statement aloud. "I wasn't gonna argue with that guy."

"Either way," Carolina interrupted, placing the conversation back on track, "we're here now. I have to go and make that report to the president now."

"Wait, couldn't you guys have just used the radio?" Grif couldn't help but ask. "Kinda a waste of time to come all the way back when you've got, you know, something that does it for you without moving?"

"We couldn't call back. Whatever's out there, it's fried our communication systems completely," Church answered, adding his two cents in. "Check your own readings; they're probably all screwy too, even from here. Mine still is."

Grif shrugged and turned on his com-link, turning away from Simmons as he prepared to contact him by it. To his surprise, he found that the reception seemed to be almost non-existent, a blast of white noise shooting into his ear as he tried to open a channel. He quickly turned back and made a vague gesture towards his helmet, prompting Simmons to the do the same and get the same results.

"Washington didn't want to risk the jeep bugging out for some reason, so he told us to go back while he checked it out alone," Carolina told them. "What we do know is that the signal around the city is incredibly poor due to something on that beach. I need to tell President Walker now before the interference causes problems for the refugees."

Damn right it would. The only truly viable method of travel and transportation on and off Giga Arcadia was via transervers, and while they were amazingly advanced technological pieces of equipment, they were also surprisingly delicate. A destructive interference like this could possibly damage or even render them offline, and then they would_ all_ be in trouble.

"Got it," Simmons finally said, moving to the side. "We'll keep watch here in case Washington comes a'calling."

Grif snapped off a salute as the two soldiers nodded their thanks and then drove past them into the city. The two men watched them go for a few seconds, then turned back to the road.

"...Got twenty E-crystals says that the Commander will be back without a scratch before noon," Grif suddenly said, turning his head to look at Simmons. "Wanna bet?"

Simmons rolled his eyes. It was a childish and frankly dumb way to try and pass the time, but it was better than nothing. "You're on."

* * *

Carolina parked the jeep in front of the area that served as the Freelancer HQ inside the inner city. Unlike the grand image one might envision, a mighty tower at the city's center reaching towards the sky as if daring to pierce the heavens, the HQ really looked, aside for some higher-grade materials and the obvious increase in security, like one of the nicer looking abodes (three-stories tall) that had been built for the refugees, especially given its nearness (maybe four kilometers or so) from the city entrance. Then again, Walker had never been big on making a show; he preferred efficiency over all, especially given the duty of managing Arcadia's dwindling resources. Next to her, Church eyed the building warily.

"Did I ever tell you about the eerie feeling I get every time I'm about to go into this building?"

"Multiple times, yes," she answered him, adjusting her rifle over her shoulder and quickly getting out to walk towards it. She turned back to him. "Staying?"

"Yup. The prez just kinda creeps me out a little bit," Church replied, settling into his seat to wait, eyes not once leaving the building. "I'll still be here when you walk out. Tell me what 'Hero-Man' wants us to do when you do."

Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to make him come, and ignoring his jab towards their leader and commanding officer, Carolina left him there. She was well acquainted with Church's dislike of Walker, though it wasn't too surprising considering that he came from Cinq Ville. Most anyone from that place would be wary of figures who had so much power as Walker did, given what happen to the president of Slither Inc., Serpent. He had been called a 'hero' much like Walker was now, and how did he end up? Dead and no doubt buried under a ton of rumble, if he hadn't been incinerated by the energy backlash from the C.I.E.L. system. Just the like hundreds of others who had been living near the plant when it came tumbling down, chunks crashing onto the residential areas of the inner city's interior.

Church's late wife had been one such casualty. He hadn't returned to the city after it had been rebuilt, preferring to stay here. Probably because he didn't want to remember those times, but then again, he was no different in that respect from several hundred-thousands of other refugees within the city limits. He was just one who managed to move on, more or less, from it.

Although, as Carolina reflected as she opened the doors to the office and made a beeline directly towards Walker's area, giving the secretary a nod of the head as she passed, it wasn't just being a Cinq Ville refugee that made him wary of Walker. The man was a little...odd in ways, especially in his desire to always remain in-control of a situation. He could rein it in, but when it came out it could be occasionally...jarring. Granted, it helped him manage his duties as president and had kept him alive in his days of roaming the Outlands, but she could understand how a stranger could look into eyes that seemed to burn a hole right through as if figuring out how to best use you to his ends and decide they didn't like it.

She quickly climbed the stairs, having removed her helmet so that her sweaty skin could feel the blow of the air-conditioner, and paused in front of the hardwood door that separated Walker's office from the outside world. Taking a breath, she quickly cradled her helmet in a respectable position under her arm and shifted her rifle to a more comfortable position.

She lifted her hand and knocked politely three times.

"You may enter," came a muffled voice on the other end.

Carolina pushed the door opened and beheld the leader of Giga Arcadia. Tall but surprisingly slender of frame, James Walker was rather handsome despite the tell-tale signs of aging already showing in his face. His black hair with just hints of grey peppering was cut short but looked somewhat spiky, as if he didn't bother to care for it when he woke up in the morning, though one could argue it was just the stress of managing an entire metropolis that caused it. Much like the building they were in, his uniform was rather bland, grey with only a few golden patches and marks on it to indicate his true importance. Despite this, it was still clean and didn't seem to have a crease, showing that he did care for some level of appearance. He was currently looking over a computer screen, rapidly typing away as his eyes flickered across it as if attempting to absorb everything he typed instantly. Carolina took notice of the two cups of half-finished coffee, both seemingly already cooled, near his desk in addition to the slight bloodshot look in his eyes, and came to the conclusion he had likely been in this state for a good portion of the night.

"Sir," she stated politely, standing at attention as she waited for him to take notice of her. He took a moment or two to respond, glancing over at her for a second finally coming to a stop in whatever he had been typing. His grey eyes, despite the subtle signs of insomnia, were still very much alert, and like sharpened stone they seemed to pierce her through.

"Captain," he greeted her, not warmly, but it wasn't hostile either. "I take it you must found something important on your patrol, considering the fact you chose to contact me in person rather than by comms."

"Sir!" she nodded. "Forgive me, but my patrol's comms were unavailable. The cause appears to be a strange interference we detected at the southernmost beach, and Border Patrol Group 3 confirmed an unusual frequency that distorted their communication systems, rendering them unable to signal for assistance or alert us to the problem. Even the Border Guards were unable to use their systems to contact us when we were in close proximity."

"I see," Walker replied stonily, his voice holding just a trace of concern now. "What of Maverick activity?"

Carolina felt like he would ask that. While threat of Maverick attack was almost nonexistent on the islands, that didn't mean there was no such activity. There was no way so many people in one place wouldn't attract_ some_ of the dangerous machines after all, though they mostly focused in the wilderness. "Our scanners seemed to indicate increasing activity around that area, and their's collaborated with ours on that, but we're unsure as to whether they're the cause of this interference or simply being attracted towards its signal. Nonetheless, the frequency interference is strong enough that it's affecting our systems near the city gates. We fear it may potentially affect the city's transerver system if left unchecked," she finished, waiting for his reply.

Walker was silent as he digested this, then he brought up the security logs to confirm that, yes, there were indeed such unusual frequency readings at the beach. He noted the relative strength of it, and reasoned that yes, the signal was strong enough to reach over to the city, but he noted with some satisfaction that it shouldn't prove too much of an issue with the transerver system. All the same, it was strong enough to interfere with the Freelancer's communications, and therefore it was necessary to deal with it as soon as possible, especially if it somehow strengthened.

The city's defenses had to be at their best at all times, or else the people who begin to lose faith in him, and then it would only be a few stepping stones to anarchy...

"Are there any groups en route to this location already?" he asked Carolina.

"Commander Washington went on ahead," she told him. "He didn't want to risk our patrol being stranded if the signal somehow affected our vehicle. I agreed."

Walker nodded. "I'll send a group rendezvous with him for investigation then. Carry on, Captain."

Carolina nodded, then paused. "Sir. Permission to join the recon unit?"

"Denied, Captain," he replied, offering her a tired smile as he turned back to the computer. "I think you've seen enough action for now. Take a load off from patrol duty and go get something to eat."

"Yes sir." She snapped off a crisp salute and turned to leave, though she did so somewhat reluctantly. The sound of typing followed her as she left.

When the door closed, Walker sighed deeply as he ceased typing, standing up to walk towards his window. He gazed downwards and watched as Carolina exited the building and joined up with her partner, the Lieutenant, if memory served, in the jeep. They seemed to speak for a moment, then the Captain took the wheel and began to drive them off, not, as he noticed with approval, back towards the gates. Carolina had been with him from near the beginning and was a damn fine and loyal soldier, but she had a bad habit of occasionally doing what her heart told her rather than what he did. He was satisfied that she had chosen to listen to his wisdom on the matter of leaving Washington to him.

A frown crossed his face as that name went across his mind. Washington again. The man did have his uses and Walker had to commend him on initiative, but the soldier had a an even worse habit of going off and doing his own thing without orders or against_ his_ orders than the good Captain did. Unlike her though, he was also a genuinely annoying fellow with his sarcasm, something he was never good with dealing. The fact that he had received permission for his excursion from the Captain lessened his disapproval somewhat, but it still annoyed him.

Inhaling deeply, Walker put thoughts of the soldier out of mind for a moment as he looked up to gaze outwards at his magnificent city. The majority of Giga Arcadia's population was now awake, helping to develop the city's landscape. Other refugees less capable in building and design ported supplies and other valuable resources around, assisting whenever they could. Though the city had some ways to go yet, it wouldn't be much longer before everything was at last complete. Soon, Giga Arcadia would be a veritable heaven on earth, the grandest city in all the world...but first he had to ensure its protection and security, for there were many out there who would see its destruction. Walker's eyes narrowed coldy as he gazed off across the horizon towards the beach where that abominable frequency was coming from. How he hated Mavericks and everything they stood for.

Whether on orders or not, Washington was right in his actions, at the very least. This problem had to be dealt with swiftly and strongly. The Freelancers had kept the feral machines at bay for years now, but how much longer could they do so? Refugees continued to flock to Giga Arcadia's borders, drawn by the idea of being able to live in peace. What would he do if they believed he could no longer protect them? They adored him for keeping them safe and had no desire to rebel when he and his forces provided them with everything they needed, but that would change if something horrible happened.

He brought up a data panel as he prepared to put together a team to rendezvous with the Commander. They would go there, deal with this, and everything would be back to the usual. Keep the people safe, give them the security they so desired and they would do anything to ensure that peace remained. And as long as he appeared strong and portrayed himself as a positive leader for the people to look up to, that would remain true. He had spent five years of his life dedicating everything he had to this city, and he would not, whether by Mavericks or not, allow it all to come crashing down around him because of a little communications problem. He would make sure of that.

* * *

Walking along the forest path, a teenage boy stuck carefully to the narrow route as he made his journey towards the city on the other side of the jungle, making sure to stay away from the lush undergrowth on either side of the path as much as he could while also on the lookout for anything that could be dangerous. While Arcadia was a fairly safe region, there were more than simply Mavericks to be wary of in the tropical forests and a person could easily get lost in them if they strayed too far from the path. Sunlight trickled down from the thick canopy above him, giving the forest around him a surreal appearance that managed to simultaneously entrance him with its beauty and yet also set his subconscious nerves on edge for some reason. That reason became obvious as the boy paused and stared around the path warily, listening to the sounds of the forest around him.

To be specific, the complete _lack _of it.

'This is weird...the forest is way too quiet today. Not even a bird singing and this area's usually full of them,' he thought to himself, the silence so eerie that he didn't even want to speak aloud and somehow disturb it. He clutched the straps of his backpack a little tighter as he picked up his pace slightly down the path. 'I'd better be careful in case there're any Mavericks up to no good.'

With dusky-color skin and silver hair, the teenager could have easily been mistaken for just another native of these isles were it not for the telltale inverted triangle on his forehead, marking him as a reploid. His name was Grey, and he had lived in Arcadia for perhaps three months or so. Appearing roughly fifteen years old, the teen was handsome despite his young age, a pale scar marring his cheek which lent him a roguish appearance that made him seem older than he actually was. His clothing consisted of a red and white jacket that doubled as a thin hoodie, which was paired up with a matching pair of shorts that reached down to his knees. On his hands were a pair of simple dark purple gloves with yellow cuffs, and a yellow shirt was visible underneath his jacket. Underneath his clothes was a dark blue bodysuit, which contrasted well with his bright uniform. Strapped across his back was a small backpack, filled with meager belongings that would sustain him until he reached his destination.

Most curious though were the pair of red cables that extended from a red apparatus that covered his back and circled his neck, currently hidden by his jacket. Grey himself had no idea exactly what purpose it had, only that it had been with him when he had first woken up and it just didn't feel right to get rid of it (as it was removable).

'When he had first woken up.' That was a statement that accurately reflected his life, or what he could remember of it. Unlike most newcomers, Grey had come to this region entirely by mistake. His first clear memory was waking up in some sort of laboratory, surrounded by the bodies of destroyed mechaniloids and two dead soldiers of some sort and with absolutely zero memory of his past or how he even got there. His second clear memory was of a strange woman named Pandora appearing out of nowhere and calling him a 'Defective' for reasons utterly beyond him.

His third memory was when she tried to kill him.

By sheer dumb luck, he had managed to elude her and fight his way outside to escape, at least until a giant Mechaniloid had appeared on the bridge he'd gotten out onto. He'd managed to destroy it after a difficult battle with a plasma pistol he had scavenged off one of the dead soldiers beside him after Pandora made her initial threat, though the effort had nearly killed him, and the resulting explosion destroyed the bridge, sending both him and his opponent's remains tumbling into the waterfall's currents below. Washed out to sea, Grey had swam for his life, desperation and the will to live driving on and on, until he had managed to grasp onto some floating debris, a piece of metal that managed to possess enough buoyancy to float even with his body weight on it. From there, he had passed out, waking at various points with slowing frequency until he had spotted a small dot on the horizon.

Through some combination of stubborn refusal to let go, ocean currents, and more luck than a person had a right to, he had ended up landing on that island, where he had awakened in the home of some elderly human couple who'd found him a-washed on the shore. Though he had been nearly dead and badly injured, they had cared for him until his wounds had healed, treating him as if he were their own child despite having never met him. For a person who only interaction with a fellow living being up to that point had been one of nearly being killed, the gesture had meant far more to him than they realized, and after a rough start (him shouting in fear if they were going to try and kill him), he had quickly grown to love them, and they him after learning about how he'd originally gotten here.

Grey's shoulders slumped at the thought of the people he essentially considered his grandparents. As much as he wanted to stay with them for good, Arcadia was becoming too dangerous for anyone to stay outside the great city. They'd moved away from the metropolis after it underwent its mass expansion, not caring for the huge crowds or the president in charge of the city, but they didn't want Grey growing up in isolation after everything he had been through in his young life. Compared to them, his life was only beginning while their own was almost at its end. Though he had tried to encourage them to come along with him, they were adamant about spending their remaining days in the peaceful wilderness of Arcadia, Mavericks or not.

_"There's nothing sadder than a person squandering his time being alone in a little shack in the middle of nowhere when he could be out experiencing all life has to offer,"_ his grandfather had told him before sending him on his way. _"We've had our fill of adventure, but now it's time for us to rest after a hard-earned journey. You, on the other hand, are much too early on life's road to be following our current example. There's more to life than just what you've seen so far. And I know you're in for a long and fruitful journey, far more exciting than our's were, at least."_

'I guess I can see their point...I'm gonna miss them a lot though,' he thought sadly as he continued on his path. After several minutes, the forest cleared as the canopy overhead became more sparse, a split in the path before him proof that he was definitely one step closer to Giga Arcadia's gates. Grey's eyes were momentarily blinded as he stepped into a patch of unfiltered sunlight, and he winced as he raised a hand over his face to adjust, not a cloud in the sky to aid him. As said sight cleared, Grey turned to view his surroundings, eager to see something that wasn't just green as much as figuring out the next path to traverse, when something strange caught his eye.

"...Woah..." he breathed, gazing across the ocean horizon in the distance. He'd come a lot further than he had thought he had, the forest having concealed the sight of the southernmost beach he had washed up on but months ago. However, there was a key something about the coastline that was utterly alien to him now. Littered across the vast stretch of white sand was the most enormous wreckage Grey had ever seen. Spanning the entire length of the shore, it covered the beach entirely, massive fragments of metal that glistened in the sun. Even more of it laid partially submerged in the surf and out to sea, and no doubt even more laid under the water's surface unseen, but all of it seemed to glitter enticingly towards him. Grey hesitated, biting his lips slightly as he looked back down the path toward the city where he'd finally be safe. However, the temptation of seeing _exactly_ what had washed ashore proved too much for him to resist.

_"Stay on the path and don't stop, whatever you do," _his grandmother's voice echoed in his mind. Grey smiled guiltily as he remembered her words, but he honestly didn't think stopping for a few minutes wouldn't cause any trouble. Muttering a soft apology under his breath, he quickly jumped down off the path to slide down the sandy dunes to the beach below. Within moments he had crossed the distance and was now before the scattered debris, marveling at the strange pieces littered about.

The majority of them were large and white, each considerably larger than he was. Crisscrossing their surfaces were a host of grey circuits that might have once pulsed a different color when they were activated, and a majority of the more complete ones had a large ruby-colored orb embedded within that almost appeared as an eye of sorts, glittering dully in the sunlight. Cords of thick black wires hung out from large cracks and between various pieces, looking as though they might have once been attached to one another like some chaotic jigsaw puzzle. Grey cautiously reached out to touch a piece, only to come away with black sludge all over his hand, grimacing as he did.

'Ah gross...just what _is_ this stuff?' he thought in disgust as he quickly wiped his hand off in the sand. Moving away from the white shards, he walked further into the heart of the wreckage closer to the edge to ocean edge, gratefully rinsing his sticky hand off in the water and noticing various objects that stuck out from the rest.

First he saw the broken remnants of an mechanical arm, attached with some sort of launcher and red blade. A half-shattered guitar was sticking straight up out of the sand almost like some sort of warning. What appeared to be several green metal vines crackled with electricity as the incoming tide washed over them, causing Grey to cautiously give them a wide berth. Next was what appeared to some sort of dark-blue tail, akin to that of a giant lizard like a crocodile, except ten times that size at least. Grey actually suppressed a shudder at the sight, wondering what manner of beast had that been attached to, as well as what had managed to sever it, given the sparking and melted circuits he could see at the base indicating that there had been some sort of struggle.

As a matter of fact, he wondered exactly what all of these fragments, in addition to other he could see scattered at various points, had belonged to. It seemed like they were once parts of...Mechaniloids, though something told him these were far more advanced than the ones he had seen upon fleeing that lab. Even so, as interesting as they were he doubted he ever find out more, as they were all quite thoroughly destroyed. Again, by what he didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Next were a bunch of other fragments, much like the earlier white ones though they were slightly different in appearance. Orange in color, the circuits adorning them were much brighter and covered in golden patterns that seemed to indicate they were more ornamental in nature. However, they were very much intact compared to their counterparts, and as Grey discovered upon sliding his finger along one's edges, much sharper.

"Ow! Son of a-" he hissed, curse cut short as he clenched his fist to slow the bleeding, dropping the fragment. Shaking his head, he decided to move along, several drops of artificial blood dripping from his hand as he moved towards something in the water that caught his eye.

Had he stayed or bothered to look behind him, he would have noticed his blood slowly being absorbed into several of the fragments, especially as he briefly shook his hand and allowed some of the blood to spray outward. He also would have seen the previously dull stones begin to brighten as they absorbed the fluids he had unknowingly offered.

Coming to a stop by the object in question, Grey realized it was a piece of clothing, now wet and dirty but might have once been pristine white. More importantly, he noticed something roughly head-sided was wrapped inside. Curiosity overcoming him, he lifted it out of the water, noting with growing interest the unusually heavy load, and began to unravel the loose threads. Finally, he pulled back the sodden cloth and came face-to-face with-

"**AAHHH!**" he screamed, immediately dropping the literal reploid _head _wrapped inside back into the water. It quickly and mercifully sank, but Grey couldn't help but stare at it. Peeling synthetic skin stretched tightly over the mechanical skull, almost completely burnt off as if the person had been caught in some terrible explosion or fire, and the lower jaw was completely missing, giving it an even more monstrous look. Stringy and similarly burnt magenta hair spread out like diseased seaweed from a rock in the water, and a single red eye glared up at him even from these depths, pure hatred in its unseeing gaze.

'Definitely not taking _that_ with me,' he immediately decided, slowly backing away from its stare yet not taking his eyes off of it. More than just disgust motivated the continued staring though: On some strange level, Grey actually felt like he should know that head from somewhere, tantalizing him almost as if he had seen it in a dream of sorts. His efforts to figure out why he felt like he should recognize a destroyed skull and his inability to look away as he did caused him to lose focus on exactly where he was going, and predictably, his left heel struck something jutting out of the wet sand, causing him to fall backwards into the water.

"Gah! W-What the-?" he muttered as he sat back up, turning to see what had tripped him. Catching a glimpse of something shiny, he quickly used his hands to dig it out, lifting his prize out of the water as he stood up, taking a good look at it. Clutched in his palm, roughly the size of his own closed fist if not slightly larger, was a sand-encrusted metallic device designed to resemble a face of sorts. Patterned red, white and black, jutting underneath its 'chin' was a short point protruding downwards, perhaps being the very thing that had tripped him in the first place. Set in the center of the formation was a bright green gemstone, paired together with a smaller set on either side almost like a pair of eyes. Grey, his annoyance giving way to growing interest, carefully cleaned it off with seawater until its surface gleamed in his hands, then slowly tossed it from hand to hand to dry it off. He marveled at both its otherworldly design and its surprising lightness, despite being obviously tough enough to survive whatever damage had created the rest of the debris around them.

"What are you supposed to be?" he murmured quietly, more to himself than the object in his hand as he pressed down gently on the gemstone across its surface top, gazing into its eyes as he did so. All the while, something stirred in the back of his mind much like with the head from earlier, as if, like before, he_ should_ know what this thing was. All of a sudden, a word seemed to just pop into his skull, and without thinking he found himself saying it aloud.

"...Biometal..."

As if a switch had been flipped, the stone's eyes suddenly glowed brightly before it emitted a sharp sound, as though it didn't like what he just did. Pulling his finger away quickly, Grey was amazed that whatever it was was still working despite what it had been through. Amazement quickly gave way to shock as the device started to rattle powerfully, almost pulling away from his grip entirely due to the sheer strength it possessed. Struggling to hold on, the teen gasped as he was literally dragged along the sands after it.

"H-Hey, calm down! What's got you upset all of a sudden?" he asked it as it tried to pull him behind one of the large white fragments jutting out of the beach, with him struggling to maintain a foothold in the sand. He got his answer as a single shot echoed in the air, startling him, quickly followed by a hail of gunfire that rained down around him, bullets pinging off the nearby fragment and the area he had just vacated. Grey nearly swore as he now followed the stone's lead with gusto and ducked behind his importune shelter, then swore for real as a bullet nearly managed to clip his leg as he tried to settle behind it, instinctively ducking his head as the gunfire concentrated on his position.

The device settled down after it had pulled him to safety, still rattling like mad in his grip as he recovered from his fright. Muttering a quiet thanks to the stone, Grey slowly peeked his head over the edge of his cover to see who or what had fired at him. His verdant green eyes widened in fear as he realized he wasn't as alone as he previously thought, for surrounding him was a small group of Mavericks, quickly closing in on their prey with brandished weapons.

* * *

Commander Washington of the Freelancers swore to himself from his hidden position back in the thick jungle undergrowth, his eyes trained on the scope of his rifle at the scene before him. The grey armored reploid was hunkered down in the trees, his scope fixated on the beach perhaps 300 meters away, specifically on the troubling development that had occurred.

When he had separated from Carolina and Church to scout ahead about the source of the disrupting signal, he hadn't known exactly what to be expecting when he got there. He assumed the signal was from some sort of wreck, or perhaps even some Maverick group gathering together. However, the sight that greeted him through his scope had been nothing like he thought: From the size of the wreckage he could see alone he could summarize it had been from a massive ship or aircraft of some sort, likely washed up from the ocean currents. He had even been tempted to head on down there and get a closer look himself, but two factors had quickly changed that.

First off, he had no idea what it even was. Well, technically that was a lie: He had a _theory_ on what it was, but if it really was what he thought it was there was no way in hell he was going in alone. Getting close to that _thing_ without proper recon (or at least someone to watch his back) could very well end in disaster, especially if there was something else (and if it was what he thought, there would be) lurking around the ruins.

Second, the fact that some kid, probably a civvie or someone who lived outside the city boundaries, suddenly popped up and started snooping around the place. He couldn't believe it at first, but it made sense: No way something like this would go unnoticed for very long. He thought about confronting him directly, but decided against it for the previous reason. Plus, the kid could be useful in helping to determine how dangerous the wreck was, and he'd be there to lend a bullet if something dangerous happened.

Plus, as much as he hated the idea of doing it, live bait would be the perfect way to draw any Mavericks hiding in the ruins out.

Sure enough, a few minutes in and several Mechaniloids started emerging from behind various ruins and started to close on the kid. He recognized them through his scope as Galleons, one of the most recognizable and common Mavericks in the Outlands, easily mistakable as other persons from a distance. Roughly as tall as an adult male, they were covered by thick purple plating that was especially thick around standard weak spots, making them something of a challenge for the inexperienced to take down. Through his scope, he could see their single green optic flash on their helmets as they cautiously made their way towards the civvie, who was currently examining something he found in the dirt and fatally unaware of the incoming danger.

He did a quick headcount, nine in total. Five of them carried the standard model's arsenal: One humanoid arm with dexterous fingers and a large gun grafted onto their other, dominant limb. Three other ones had what appeared to be a triangular-shaped limb in place of the gun, lacking any sort of fingers. Their purpose quickly became apparent when a green elongated diamond-shaped blade sparked into existence on each of them, spanning the whole length of the arm and slightly beyond: Galleon Assaults.

It was the ninth that worried him though. Taller and bulkier than the others, this Galleon was almost jet-black in color, its extra plating silver and even thicker. Washington immediately registered it as the boss, especially as the other Galleons seemed to part from it whenever it got close, indicating seniority. In terms of weaponry, it was armed with a larger, more powerful version of the Galleon cannon, though that bulky free arm looked like it could tear someone apart even without aid. Its optic was also a bright blue to compare with the green of the others, and it seemed to pulse brighter and darker at random intervals, as if it were communicating with it.

He glanced down at his weapon. It was a standard issue sniper rifle, capable of accuracy up to ranges of at least 650 meters. He had little doubt he could miss them at this range, and he was confident he could punch through the Galleon armor even in its thickest area if he did fire.

That big one, though, was an entirely different matter. He doubted that anything short of a shot to the optics would do anything better than make it angry, and at this angle, facing away from him towards the civvie, that was all but impossible.

He watched as the Mavericks slowly raised their weapons to open fire on the kid, who was now holding some sort of rock or something in his hands, blind to the world.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, quickly raising his rifle to draw a bead on the Galleon gunner furthest to the right. The sword guys weren't a threat, at least until they got in close. He sighted, aimed, prepared to pull the trigger-

He blinked as the Galleons suddenly seemed to pause, as if puzzled by something the kid did. Wash couldn't see exactly what he did, but he didn't hesitate, pulling the trigger.

His shot rang out as the Galleon collapsed in a heap, a hole clean through its head proof of his kill. The other four immediately started shooting, though whether it was because of shock or they thought it was the signal he didn't know. He glanced upwards to see the civvie dive behind one of those fragments in the sand as the shots fell around him, while the other four Galleons looked about in confusion. Not one to waste an advantage, he turned his sights on the next Galleon gunner and pulled the trigger.

It was just like the old days of Maverick-hunting.

* * *

Grey ducked his head back down as another shot cracked out, but not before the Galleon closest to his cover stopped shooting and fell to the sand with a hole through its head.

"Someone's out there?" he breathed out, his eyes quickly darting out to scan the area behind the Mavericks. Whoever it was though was obviously hidden from sight, and the other Mavericks seemed to realize they were sitting ducks on this open ground, as the three remaining gunners immediately stopped firing and tried to race for cover. The three bladed fighters further back raised their arms almost like shields, plasma in front of their faces and torsos and they turned to face the jungle. Only the big one, whom Grey dubbed the 'Ultra' due to its obvious superiority to the other ones, stood its ground, blue optics scanning the jungle furiously for its group's attacker.

Another shot, this time on the Ultra itself. Unlike the last two though, it merely glanced off the maverick's armor, though it raised its free hand as if to cover its eye. Slowly, almost deliberately, it raised its arm cannon towards the trees, finally settling on a spot. Slowly at first but with increasing speed, blue plasma began to gather inside the cannon mouth.

Another shot. It hit the cannon, but aside from a graze where it ricocheted, it was utterly undamaged. Three more shots rang out in quick succession, but all proved just as ineffective, even when one shot seemed to hit the _inside_ of the cannon barrel. Finally, the Ultra fired back, and a large glob of blue plasma shot from the gun and crossed the distance to the jungle within seconds. Grey was certain he saw some faint movement just before it hit, but whatever was in the area disappeared in an explosion of fire and dust as the shot impacted. No more sniper shots sounded, and the Ultra seemed almost pleased with itself as it turned back around.

By this time, Grey shook himself out of his daze and quickly reached with his free hand into his backpack to grab his own weapon, realizing he had to do something to help whoever was fighting out there or at least use this brief respite well. His hand closed about the handle of his gun, but as he attempted to pull it out awkwardly with one hand, unwilling to let go of the device, the Ultra seemed to bark an order and the two Galleons closest to him, the gunners, rushed to intercept, no longer firing.

With a grunt, Grey managed to pull the gun free, but as he struggled to take aim the Galleons were already nearly on top of him. Grey instinctively pulled the trigger and was rewarded with the sound of three bullets firing, striking the nearest Galleon in the chest. Grey fired another burst and managed to tear a hole clean through the damaged maverick, but he was too slow to prevent the other one from grabbing his gun arm and smashing him against the fragment he had previously taken shelter behind. His back to the shard, Grey struggled against the iron grip of the robot as it attempted to force him to drop the gun. His struggles only grew more difficult as the other gunner joined in and grabbed his other arm, attempting to pry not the gun from him, but rather the metallic device he had picked up. It rattled again as Grey cried out in pain, this time as if in anger. Instinctively the reploid held on as tight as he could, sensing that if the Mavericks wanted it so badly, then he couldn't let them no matter what.

Fortunately for the teen, the Galleons lacked one major advantage he did even in this position; namely the use of two good hands. While their rifles were deadly weapons, their hands were not as nearly as well-developed as the average reploid and their fingers, while strong, lacked the dexterity which would have made restraining Grey and snatching the object a much easier job. They had only managed to force him to drop the gun, to the Ultra's growing impatience, when the crimson device suddenly glowed with an intense light. Grey himself was unharmed by the energy the object emitted, but the two Galleons were tossed into the air as if slammed by a wall of force, tumbling like ragdolls as they landed into the water with a splash.

The Galleon Assaults moved forward as if to intercept him, blades crackling dangerously, but they were interrupted as the Ultra, who had apparently grown tired of this, marched forward with an electronic snarl of fury, plasma charging in its cannon once again. Snatching up his dropped weapon, Grey crouched behind the shard and fired several bursts at the maverick, only to watch in horror as they ricocheted off just as the assault from before had. Within seconds, the Ultra completed its charge as it raised its cannon arm, and Grey barely had time to duck and roll before the charge shot smashed against the white metal, causing it to explode into even smaller pieces. The Assaults seemed to just relax and bob their heads as they watched their leader prepare to finish this, while the other two Galleons in the sea had recovered from their fall and were swimming back to shore. Grey stared and felt his shoulders slump with hopelessness as the Ultra charged another shot, then stiffened as the crimson object, the thing that had seemingly caused all of this, emitted a gentle light, flooding his body with warmth as he looked down.

_"Well kid, it looks like we're in a lot of trouble. How about I give you a hand?" _it said directly into his mind, causing Grey to blink in surprise. The voice was clearly masculine and sounded confident, as if it faced down odds like this on a daily basis.

"Y-You're telling me!" Grey stammered, almost certain he had gone insane. "But...who..._what_ are you exactly? And what can you do to help?" He glanced over at the Ultra, whose cannon was almost fully charged and was slowly bringing it up to fire, as if it could sense he had nowhere else to go and wanted to drag it out. It was a feeling well-earned, because the other Galleons were slowly boxing in on him so that he'd have no way to dodge without getting right in one of their sights.

The device emitted a bright green light, enveloping Grey in its warm aura as it appeared to scan him. Apparently satisfied with whatever it found, it continued to speak, instructing Grey quickly as the Ultra tensed up for firing.

_"I'm Biometal Model Z, and I need you to listen carefully. From the looks of things, you and I are compatible for transforming, so I need you to shout 'Megamerge' as loud as you can. I'll handle the rest. Do it now!" _Without a moment to lose, Grey decided to trust the device's words and lifted it into the air as high as he could. The Ultra prepared to unleash its finisher as the teen shouted the word as loud as he could, the onlookers' optics flashing in something resembling fear as the words registered in their processors.

**_"MEGAMERGE!"_**

The Ultra's optics flashed as it unleashed its attack, plasma shooting straight for Grey and crossing the distance in a heartbeat, aimed directly for his chest. There was no way for it to miss at this range, and it was powerful enough to tear through any sort of body armor the teen might have been wearing and clean through him like tissue paper.

And yet it dissipated like mist as an explosion of crimson energy surrounded the reploid's body, completely obscuring him from view. From within, Model Z glowed almost like a miniature sun in Grey's grasp, responding to his command. _"Biolink Established! M.E.G.A. System Online!" _it called out as it dispersed into a stream of digital data.

Power unlike anything Grey had ever felt before surged through his body, circling inside his entire form as Model Z's light filled him with new strength. The digital stream of energy flowed over and across his entire body, seemingly drowning out the rest of the world. Suddenly, he felt heavier, and Grey's eyes widened as he realized his clothes were disappearing, being replaced instead with _armor_. Crimson armguards covered his forearms, far more protective than the threadbare hoodie he'd been wearing but seconds before. A similarly-colored jacket appeared over his torso, with a matching pair of red boots replaced his earlier shoes. His thighs were sealed over by thick black armor, white armor appearing alongside it to protect his upper thighs and groin from harm. His ear ports lengthened, sharply sweeping backwards like arrowheads as a dark visor erupted from either side to cover his eyes. As it did so, the light cleared, leaving Grey intensely focused on the situation before him.

The Galleons before him backed away in surprise. From their point of view the transformation had been all but a few seconds, yet in that time the helpless boy before them had been replaced with a warrior in red and black, his eyes hidden from view behind that visor. His short silver hair had lengthen into a long flowing mane of gold that cascaded down his back. Model Z no longer remained in his fist, but had been replaced with a long green plasma blade, shaped in the curved form of an ancient katana. Said blade crackled with power as he swung it down in front of himself, as clear a challenge to all six remaining Galleons as the small smirk on his face, unable to hide the feeling that once-impossible odds now seemed a whole lot easier.

"All right then. Let's see what you guys got."

* * *

**Well, that's a wrap for now. Points to whoever can figure out where those various characters I mentioned came/got inspiration from. The name of this city, 'Giga Arcadia', I humbly provide from Kuraselache's work. Look it up, it's quite good.**

**And so, Grey obtains Model Z, but how will he fare in his first test of the Biometal's power? And what of the Ouroboros' remains?**

**Review, fav and follow people! Tell me what you thought!**


	3. End of the Serpent

**Hello everybody, welcome to the newest chapter of Omega's Ascension! Our first real battle sequence is upon us, so let's see if I can make it interesting!**

**Disclaimer: Mega Man and all its sub-series belong to Capcom. The original idea for this belongs to the author Kuraselache. X the Reaper owns nothing.**

**Alright, let's go!**

* * *

The six Galleons stood there stunned. What had once been a seemingly easy extermination had quickly spiraled into a major standoff. Before them, the pathetic reploid boy from before was now a red-armored avenger, plasma sword at the ready to fight them all. The previous look of fear was gone, replaced with a confident smirk that was not supposed to exist on helpless prey.

"All right then. Let's see what you guys got."

Those words were spoken with utter certainty, as if the teen simply intended to fight them all head-on and come out like nothing happened. Where a being of emotion would have likely become angered at such perceived arrogance and attacked recklessly, the cold logic that drove the machines left them only recalculating the odds of battle. While certainly more even, they had the numbers, superior range and, in theory, superior armaments on their side. Even if the teen had become far stronger in simply a few minutes, he was still one boy with little experience.

All this flowed through the Galleons' collective processors in less than a second, but it was the Ultra who acted on what all of them were thinking. Without hesitation, it charged the plasma within its cannon to about half and fired, intending to show this fool how misguided its confidence really was. The shot struck the teen's feet, the explosion kicking up a cloud of sand, obscuring him from view. The other Galleons backed away at the action, but quickly righted themselves, weapons never leaving the cloud.

The Ultra walked towards the cloud, already charging another shot. With a wave of its hand it parted the cloud, looking down. Before it, the sand was a crater, blackened and cracked like glass near the epicenter.

And yet, no body.

The Ultra's optics flared as it looked left and right, trying to see where the boy had gone. The sudden sound of buster fire from the other two Galleons caused it to look in their direction, noticing the direction of their muzzles before snapping its head upwards. Directly above him, Grey descended from the cloudless skies, having jumped so high and fast its optics hadn't even registered the movement. Realizing that it had fallen for the deceptively simple trap, the Ultra staggered back, free arm raised in front of itself protectively. Not a moment too soon, as the saber came flashing down in an arc, cutting deeply into the limb as the Ultra managed to roll away.

Growling, it raised its charged cannon and fired again, intending to make the boy pay for that. To its growing ire, the boy managed to dodge it, dropping to his knees as the deadly projectile whizzed over his head into the sand futilely. Eye crackling, it turned towards its remaining Galleons and and ordered them to attack. The two gunners in the back raised their weapons and begin to fire while the Assaults moved cautiously, blades at the ready. The Ultra watched with a growl, briefly glancing towards its arm and attempting to move it.

It responded to the input, flexing slightly. The Ultra looked back towards the boy, watching as he raced to the side to avoid the bullets. That child would pay for this insult.

* * *

Words couldn't quite describe how Grey felt right now. The strength in his limbs, the speed he was moving at, the increased reaction times as he dodged gunfire, even his ability to almost pick out every minute detail on the Galleons coming at him or hear the whine of their weapons in action. It was as if he was dead to the world before, but now it was before him in all its splendor. He could feel Model Z alongside him, almost like a guardian of some sorts, subtly pushing him to move when he had to, dodge when it was necessary. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before, but he only knew that he _loved_ it.

Even better was the fact it felt like he had _always_ had this power, and that Model Z had simply shown him the way to bringing it all out. He didn't know why exactly he felt like that, but he decided that didn't matter now, especially as he still had enemies to deal with.

_"Let's take out those gunners first," _Model Z's voice echoed in his mind. _"With their support gone, we can go toe-to-toe with the Assaults without worrying about someone shooting us in the back."_

Grey nodded, simply turning himself to face the mentioned enemies. Flexing his leg muscles, he raced across the sands with another burst of speed, leaving the sword-wielders in the dust behind him. He spared only the barest glance towards the Ultra, who watched him with narrowed eye yet made no move.

"What about him?" he asked.

_"Leave him for last. His lackeys will just get in the way if we go after him, and he doesn't look that eager to fight after you gashed his arm."_

Grey grunted in acknowledgement, which quickly turned to surprise and pain as reality came back with a vengeance, a buster shot hitting him in his free shoulder. Luckily, it didn't do much but distract him, his armor holding up, but he quickly dashed out of the path of several more shots from the advantage-seeking robots, getting ever closer.

_"Jump!"_

Grey reacted instinctively and instantly to the Biometal's command, kicking off the ground in a manner not dissimilar from earlier, though not as hard. He soared through the air towards his opponents, and as they took the time overcome their surprise at the change in tactics and adjust their aim, Grey's sword came flashing down on the first one's head. Armor and circuitry parted under the cutting edge of the plasma, cleaving from its head down and through its torso. Grey swiftly turned from his bisected opponent and faced the other gunner, who attempted to snap off a few shots at him.

Keyword here was _attempted_.

Grey's sword snapped upwards in an almost uppercut fashion, slicing the maverick's cannon in two. He quickly followed up with a swift chop to the head, decapitating his enemy. Not stopping, he abruptly about-faced, hair billowing out behind him almost like a cape of sorts as he stared down his remaining enemies.

The three Assaults were nearly upon him, not once having stopped chasing him as he had dealt with the gunners. With a wild swing the first attempted to take his head, their blades locking and crackling as they struggled to maintain stable footing in the shifting sand. The other two attempted to flank him and strike at his blind spots, but Grey realized what they were trying to do and pushed forward with renewed energy, attempting to break the trap before it could be set.

He wasn't expecting his opponent to suddenly explode right in front of him though.

With a loud _'oof' _he went flying back into the sand, the concussive force and loudness of the explosion briefly disorienting him. However, he did catch sight of the Ultra marching towards him, another shot already getting ready.

'He fired through his own soldier!' he couldn't help but think in shock. Granted, he never expected mercy from Mavericks, but watching how one so callously destroyed its fellow just to get at a target was just a whole new low.

The Ultra didn't seem to care, powering up to fire again.

_"Grey, swing the Z-Saber at the plasma! Now!"_

On command, Grey swung, his blade connecting with the ball of death. For a moment they struggled, Grey desperate to stop the blinding light even through his visor, but with a mighty heave he deflected the ball off into the water, where it exploded in a flash of steam. The other two Assaults didn't give him any breathing room, charging him with their swords ready on either side of him.

'Crap,' he thought as he got to his feet, raising his blade and barely parrying the first set of strikes. While lacking any finesse, they were powerful and their reach actually surpassed his own, and their constant attacks kept him on his toes. There was also no way he could go back on the offensive, for to strike one would leave him open to the other.

'I gotta do something!'

_"Let me help. Just be ready to stab the ground when I say so."_

'Wha-' he started, but was cut off as he suddenly felt energy pool within the Z-Saber. The sword glowed brighter and brighter as the power seemed to reach critical mass, and the two Assaults paused as they registered this increase, hesitating just long enough to give Grey some breathing room to back up a few feet. The Ultra felt it as well, and a burst of garbled static hurled from its throat as it attempted to warn its troops what was happening.

_"Now!"_

Grey obeyed, stabbing the ground with all his strength. He wasn't certain exactly _what _was supposed to happen now, but he got his answer as the ground rumbled, the only warning before beams of light erupted from it and incinerated both of the Galleon Assaults, leaving only the Ultra behind. Said Ultra was not pleased in the slightest, as the destruction of its pack as well as its own earlier injury was far too much an insult to allow unchallenged. Another charge shot fired, one Grey barely avoided as he pulled his sword out of the ground and dashed away. The Ultra didn't care, merely following after him slowly and methodically, firing off round after round with several smaller buster rounds to keep the Mega Man guessing. It knew he had no ranged weapon: As long as it could keep him at a distance, victory was its.

Grey swung his sword as he deflected several of the smaller shots, jumping into the air once again to both avoid another charged shot and to try and close the distance. The Ultra was wise to that though, and simply fired another plasma bolt while he was in the air. Grey swung down and managed to deflect it, but the force of the attack colliding with him screwed up his forward momentum, sending him back to the sands. The Ultra, sensing victory, marched forward, keeping up the buster shots as it prepared one final salvo of plasma.

Grey crossed his arms as he felt the weaker shots connect, feeling like miniature hammer blows against his body. However, he could just see his enemy getting closer for a kill shot. 'Model Z, I have a plan...but I need more power...'

_"Got it." _Energy surged through him again. _"Just don't waste it all."_

Grey was silent as he felt the power gather and build, not releasing it but instead storing it, until his hair faintly crackled with the amount of power he was holding in. All the while, he kept his arms crossed and endured the punishment of bullets and half-charged shots, slowly coming to one knee as if weakening. This would only work if the Ultra was close enough and thought he was done for, only enough strength left for a final attack.

Finally, perhaps eight feet away, the Ultra stopped moving and firing, charging up for the finisher. Plasma glowed blue inside the barrel as it took aim for Grey's center mass, spiraling faster and faster within. Slowly, Grey uncrossed his arms, trying to make a show of being afraid and weakened, allowing a brief shudder to shake his sword arm. The scrapes and burns on his armor helped sell it, and he held the blade with both hands in front of him. The Ultra looked almost insulted by this display of futile resistance.

A pregnant pause. Black visor met blue eye. Grey saw no mercy in the maverick's mechanical face.

Grey suddenly lunged forward, releasing all the power he had gathered. **"Z-Slash!"**

At the exact same instant, the Ultra fired. At this range, it crossed the distance in less than a millisecond. Not even the pillar of light that had saved Grey the first time would have been fast enough to stop it. It smashed into the ground and exploded in a burst of fire, consuming anything in its way.

And yet, the ball of death, an attack that would have blown a hole clean through Grey, Mega Man or not, did not reach its target.

In fact, its target wasn't even there anymore, or _anywhere_ for that matter. It was as if with those words the boy had just vanished from existence.

The Ultra glanced about rapidly, optic trying to catch sight of its enemy. Where could he have gone-

Suddenly, a feeling of numbness started to spread across its body, starting from its chest and legs, but quickly encompassing its entire form. Looking down, it stared dumbfounded at the sight of three slash marks, in the shape of 'Z' that had suddenly appeared all down its body, right before it realized with growing horror that those wounds were now leaking, then _gushing _its precious artificial fluids out onto the beach. Its legs suddenly felt weak, causing it to fall down and barely maintain balance on its knees.

"It's over."

The words seemed to have come from right behind it, but they sounded as if they spoken from far away at the same time. With increasing slowness, the Ultra turned its head to look behind it, its optic coming into direct contact with the blonde's visor. It tried to raise its cannon to fire, only to feel rather than see it splutter and die, falling off its arm to land on the beach, severed at the elbow.

Blue stared into black for the longest moment. The Ultra saw no pity in the warrior's eyeless expression.

With a final gurgle and burst of static, the Ultra fell to the beach, blue eye dimming forever.

The Red Mega Man stood victorious, yet he didn't relax his stance. Something told him things weren't over with just yet. As if fate agreed, the sands beneath his feet suddenly trembled as if an earthquake was shaking the entire island, the ocean waves rolling back and forth with increasing strength as the vibrations struck. All around him, the great wreckage also shook, but suddenly a mighty groan echoed throughout the area as said wreckage _shifted _as if coming to _life_.

* * *

It was the damned rumbling that woke him up.

Commander Washington's eyes slowly opened as the earth around seemed to be in danger of splitting apart, a mighty quake tearing through the ground. He looked about in confusion for a moment, wondering why the hell he was currently covered in mud and various plant growth and smelled burned up before it came back to him.

Big ass Maverick. Plasma shot. Running. Explosion. Tossed around. Smacked against tree. Nothing.

He noticed the remnants of his helmet lying next to said tree with a pretty solid showing of his head in it. He then looked down at himself and grimaced. His left side, barring the mud and other nasties of the outdoors, was relatively fine, though he was certain his arm was dislocated. His right side, on the other hand, was clearly worse off, having taken the brunt of the explosive force along with his back. The armor was charred and he was certain he could see blood leaking through, but oddly felt nothing. Most likely the shock was still going strong. He could still move both it and his legs though, despite the pain, so it was obvious his spine was intact.

"Well, I'm alive at least," he reasoned. "Guess I should be glad that quake came along and-"

That when he heard the roaring down by the beach. He turned his head towards it.

"What the...holy hell..." he trailed off as he saw something big, white and just plain _wrong _fill his vision.

It looked like some sort of mechanical serpent out of hell, white and gold covering its entire body. However, that wasn't what was disturbing; it was the most normal thing about it really. Rather, it was the look of _incompleteness_. Holes and cracks aligned its entire body, thick black coils of wire sticking out everywhere and waving about as if waiting to be plugged up by something. Those 'somethings' became obvious as those massive pieces of wreckage unleashed their own black wires, connecting and drawing them together to seal the gaps. Even from here, he could hear the disgusting sound of the wires slipping and sliding against each other to get together. Worst of all were all the _eyes_, the massive red orbs showing up all over the mechanical serpent's body that glowed with an unearthly light, so intense that the cloudless skies above actually darkened as the natural sunlight was blotted out.

Washington just stared in horror, the realization of what this thing was overriding all senses of thought or emotion. In fact, it was so intense that he could feel himself already getting light-headed, and as he faded he could only say one thing.

"...We're all gonna die..."

* * *

"What the hell _IS _this thing?!" Grey shouted in fear as he raced along the beach, trying to avoid the black wires as they came down around him, attempting to grab him. Behind him, he just barely stole a glance towards the ruined bodies of the defeated mechaniloids, nearly freezing in horror as the wires grabbed and dragged them into the nightmare the wreckage had become, devoured by the serpent head that still stared hungrily at him.

He snapped out of it as a wire slammed down in front of his face, prompting him to swing his Z-Saber. He felt intense relief as he felt the material give way under the edge and then he was running again, the consciousness of Model Z telling him to get as far away from this thing as possible.

_"This is the Ouroboros! Watch out!" _the biometal called from inside his mind as more coils came snaking up the beach. Grey jumped through the air and beat the wires back with his sword as they came after him, not once allowing himself to relax. More wires snaked all over the sands and into the air, grabbing anything that could be used as sustenance. Metal fragments, trees from up near the jungle edge, even seaweed from the ocean was brought up and into the cracks inside the creature. Grey was even certain he saw that reploid head from before being grabbed and lifted up, its red-eye gaze glaring hatefully at everything as it disappeared into the serpent's gullet.

Suddenly, the snake shuddered, and Grey could only stare in surprise as the wires retreated from their pursuit of them and back into the monstrosity, right before the entire thing started to compact, fusing into a ball of unrecognizable mass as the red cores started pulsing faster and brighter like so many living hearts.

"What's it doing?" he asked in equal parts fascination and disgust, unable to take his eyes from the spectacle before him. The sounds of wires and metals merging was nightmarish, and all the while the pulsating of the cores increased, now accompanied what definitely sounded like a heartbeat.

_"My guess it's trying to take on a more manageable form,"_ Model Z informed him._ "We can't let that happen. Don't hesitate and strike before it manages to finish!"_

Grey's eyes focused on the abomination at its words, trying to find something that seemed to scream weak-point. Finally, he settled on the largest core right in the center of the formless mass's chest, which burned the brightest of all and seemed to be connected to what looked like a skull-shaped hunk of metal. The now-shapeless head of the Ouroboros seemed to realize what he was looking at and hurriedly tried to lift one of its plates to cover it.

'That's it!' Grey thought triumphantly, losing no time as he charged across the sands straight towards the towering mass rising up to the blackened heavens. Slick wires erupted from its form to stop the crimson warrior once and all, desperate to keep him from coming any closer. The Z-Saber in the Mega Man's grip glowed fiercely, a guiding beacon of light before the sea of darkness coming at him.

**"Hyahhhhhhhh!"** Grey screamed as he lunged into the coils, blade swinging like a whirlwind about him as he cut a swath through the seeking wires like a man possessed. He felt his previous injuries and strain from the battle with the mavericks, but he ignored it all, focusing everything he had on the task before him. He felt Model Z add its strength to his own, almost as if it were guiding his blows to the intended effect. Severed pieces fell onto and slid off his smooth armor as he tore his way to the pulsating orbs, understanding instinctively that he wouldn't have another chance if he failed. The Ouroboros seemed to understand this, as the assault only increased as he neared, and he could almost sense the panic within the abomination as he released a burst of energy that ripped the wires away, the fear as it tried to move the protective piece into position as he came upon it, power crackling within his sword.

_"NOW GREY!"_

Lifting his saber with both hands, Grey swung down on both the metal plating guarding the core and the core itself, releasing all the power he had gathered. Emerald energy exploded outward, tearing through the thick metal shielding like tissue paper and lodging into the red orb, cracks spreading like wildfire across its surface as the Mega Man's energy ripped into it down to its roots. With a wordless roar Grey tore his blade out, an explosion of power greeting him as the core shattered and literally sent him crashing back down to the beach, rolling for a few seconds before stopping on his face in the sand.

Grey managed to get his bearings and spit the sand out of his mouth, turning around to gaze at the Ouroboros. From its chest dark fluids poured out onto and into the sand and water beneath it, the still vaguely snake-like giant slowly teetering back and forth as it trying to come to terms with what had just happened. He could have sworn the misshapen head looked equal parts dumbstruck and horrified.

Then, with a gurgling moan which sounded like a thousand metal pieces grinding against each other, the monstrosity fell backwards into the waves, its crimson eyes dimming for the last time as its coils thrashed against the sands and water in death throes. Slowly, it soon laid still in the ebbing tides as it finally began to come apart, the fragments of its form shattering into smaller pieces that would hopefully be washed out to sea with the tide. Puffing and panting from the exertion and adrenaline, Grey slowly made his way back to the wreckage, spying and pulling his Z-Saber from where it had lodged itself in the ground, looking for all the world like a crimson knight who had just slayed the great dragon. As he did so, the light from the cores dimmed and pulsating beat died, the unnatural darkness that had covered the sky dissipating as the warm sunlight cascaded back down.

Finally, after hundreds of years of devouring the souls of countless innocents and tormenting the world with its presence, Model W and the foul consciousness that had driven it were at last no more. Grey stood strong, proud and victorious against the most dangerous being he had ever faced. Had Model Z possessed lips, they would have been smiling, and inwardly the biometal hoped where ever he was, if he was watching right now, that his old friend Giro was proud that his sacrifice had not been in vain.

His final mission, as well as both Vent's and Aile's, had been accomplished at long last. Model W was finally gone.

* * *

"That's...a lot to take in..." Grey said at last, roughly half an hour after his battle with the revived monstrosity that had been the Ouroboros. Sitting comfortably on the sun-kissed sands some distance away from the now-lifeless wreckage currently drifting out to sea and or just lying on the beach, unMegamerged and back to normal with his retrieved gun, he listened intently to the biometal's words as it recounted its tale, right from the very beginning when its original owner, a reploid man named Giro who was also a member of the Guardians, found a pair of young human children huddled together in a devastated fairground in Area H. They were twins, a boy named Vent and a girl named Aile who, after surviving a vicious Maverick raid that not only killed their mother but thousands of innocent human and reploid men, women and children on that day many years ago, had been adopted by the reploid, though he kept his identity as a Guardian and Mega Man secret from both of them for over a decade. Grey was horrified as Model Z spoke of the devastation and death they had seen on that day, the mental image of two young children holding each other, desperately trying to find their parent or even just someone who was still alive in a literal hell on earth burning into his memory. It really put his own past in perspective, and for once Grey was actually kind of glad he couldn't remember any of it.

Model Z had then continued the story, describing first how Vent became the biomatch of another Biometal called Model X before gaining Model Z after a surprise attack from a man named Serpent. Grey registered that name as belonging to some sort of dead hero back in Cinq Ville that his grandfather once mentioned, and thus he was shocked and disgusted to learn that the supposed 'hero' was nothing but a monster who had sacrificed countless for his own goals, one of which was Giro himself, whom he had taken control of and forced to attack his own adopted son. He couldn't believe anyone could stoop so low as to force someone younger than even himself to literally kill his own family member. Model Z's words were bitter as it described Giro's death, but understood that Grey needed to know _everything _that had happened. Unlike Vent, who had his sister and the Guardians, Grey was all alone with no one to help, and so Model Z took it upon himself to teach its new host all about being a Mega Man. If it had to recall painful memories to do so, then so be it.

And so Model Z held nothing back, giving Grey a brief history over what had happened over the previous few years, and of how it ended up on the beach along with the wreckage of Ouroboros. It spoke of how it had chosen Aile as its new host so she could help her brother fight, how Vent had succeeded in defeating Serpent and the monstrous power that had controlled him, Model W, and of the various other Biometals they had obtained before they were stolen by their archenemies, a pair of reploids named Prometheus and Pandora. Grey started as he recalled the strange woman named Pandora from the first night he awoke, the coincidence too strong for him to ignore.

Finally, Model Z spoke on how Aile had given it back to Vent so he could keep up the fight, other events drawing her attention away. Alone with only his two Biometals, Vent traveled to Legion's mainland to find the stolen ones, where he got swept up in a series of events that led him to both fight against and alongside a Hunter and fellow Mega Man named Ashe in a great battle against Master Albert, who Grey heard retired from Legion as opposed to turning against the rest of the world in an effort to wipe out all life with Ouroboros, forged of fragments of many Model Ws. Legion hadn't let _that_ one slip, Model Z noted with a chuckle, though it was understandable to the reploid youth why they'd keep something like that under wraps: The situation around the world was bad enough; knowledge that it was directly caused by one of the Sage Trinity acting out and abusing his power in such a manner would cause the already tense population to snap and break out into all-out civil war.

The sun continued to beat down from above as Grey thought carefully about what Z had told him. He finally understood at least a few pieces of his past, especially what Pandora had been referring to when she called him 'Defective' before trying to kill him. He had always suspected there was something different about him from other reploids based on her words, but never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined he had _this_ kind of power, the power of a Mega Man. It was a lot to take in over a single afternoon. Suddenly, Grey remembered something about the abomination he'd just fought and sat back up to look at the biometal floating alongside him.

"Wait a minute, so you're telling me Ouroboros was a _Biometal_ like you? And it was responsible for creating all those Mavericks?" he asked, and the red, black and white device nodded.

_"The _original _Biometal, born of many Model W fragments gathered together into a single weapon, though Model W was never meant to be used as other Biometals by people. As you saw, it possessed a mind of its own such as myself, but the consciousness within was far more malevolent, desiring to corrupt and control everything around it, even those who used its power. I think it's safe to say that both it and Ouroboros are truly dead at last thanks to you though. I can't sense its presence anymore, even from those few pieces still on the beach."_

Grey eyed said wreckage carefully, the remaining pieces little more crumbled pieces drifting out to sea on the tidal currents, if they still weren't on the beach. With a bit of luck, even that would sink to the depths of the ocean or be buried under the sand, never to be seen again.

"Well, that's good to know...but what about those Mavericks we fought earlier, especially that big one? I've fought Galleons before, but I've never seen one like that. Never one so..._sentient_..." he said, remembering how it had shot clean through one of its fellows just to get at him over the usual preservation tactics of its kind, the cold intelligence, far stronger than the other Galleons', in its blue optic. Model Z drifted quietly for a moment, also curious about the Maverick in question. In all its time with Giro, Vent and Aile it had never encountered one like that before, although it was apparent it too was a Galleon - albeit one of a more advanced nature.

_"...Despite what most people might believe, Mavericks usually prefer to avoid combat and keep to themselves, attacking settlements only when their energy resources are in short supply or their territory is being threatened. Since nobody has been mass-producing combat-type reploids or Mechaniloids for a long time, they've had to find new ways of sustaining their populations so that they can continue to survive. Did you ever hear about the incident in Cinq Ville five years ago, when the Slither Inc. headquarters collapsed for no apparent reason?"_

"Yeah, my gramps did when he once talked to me about the growing Maverick problems around the world. Said it was one of the worst Maverick invasions in recent history..." He then grimaced. "Though I doubt he knew the truth about Serpent and Model W."

_"Indeed. Serpent used the Model W core, what you destroyed today, to help manipulate Maverick bands into raiding all across Inner Peace. Although it would be more accurate to say _it_ was controlling _him_,_ _he still used Mavericks to attack Cinq Ville so he could gather enough life energy to fully awaken it and complete his 'Project Haven'. Every attack, every incident even before that, including the Area H raid, was because of him, all to bolster Slither Inc.'s reputation as a peacekeeper so he make the populace trust him. All to make them food for Model W and become the Ultimate Mega Man."_

Grey grimaced again. All that pain, all that suffering just to gain power? He couldn't even fully hate Serpent, because it had been Model W that made him do all of it, twisted into a pawn of its evil. He recalled how he had plunged his sword into Ouroboros's beating heart and darkly hoped, despite understanding Model Z's words that hatred never solved anything, that the pain it had felt in those last moments had reminded it of all the pain it had inflicted on so many others. It deserved nothing less.

_"Just like Serpent and Master Albert, who attempted the same thing on the global scale, Mavericks are equally susceptible to Model W's influence. When left alone, most of their kind avoid conflict unless, as I've said, provoked or in need of resources. That was, it seems, until recently, as their mentality seems to be undergoing a type of evolutionary shift along with their designs, perhaps accelerated by Model W's tampering. Decades ago when the world was still recovering from the results of the Elf Wars and Ragnarok firings, the Mavericks had little choice but to relocate to the Outlands while the remaining humans and reploids settled in Area Zero. Neither side had the numbers or resources to fight one another for no reason, and unnecessary small-scale warfare caused both populations to drop drastically."_

Grey nodded slowly, intrigued by this history lesson but trying to find the point to it. "So?"

_"This had a unique effect on Maverick designs though, as the weakest and most flawed models were the first to be wiped out in battle. After a couple of generations, the remaining species with the most advantageous designs succeeded in passing their schematics on, just like evolution of the past. However, they still maintained behavior similar to that of the Mavericks of ages long past, as there was still no need to really change them. Model W's influence over the past years might have kickstarted a shift in their AI, as their mentality adapted to their advanced systems. It's possible that they're now intelligent enough to pursue their own agendas rather than simply acting out in another's stead or instinctively. Those Mavericks, while they might have been hiding among the ruins, didn't attack because Ouroboros demanded it; it activated only after their defeat."_

In this case, the Ultra and its soldiers recognizing Model Z for the threat it was and trying to steal it before Grey could use it against them, as well as the Ultra's pragmatism in shooting through its own packmate to get at him. It made some sense, how they were suddenly coordinating their attacks more efficiently, and if it were true it would explain why the worldwide attacks were increasing. However, exactly _what _the Mavericks were after was anyone's guess...

"But...what can the Guardians do now, Model Z? They're just one organization, and these attacks are happening all over the place. Even with Legion and the Hunters all working with them, if the Mavericks really are evolving and getting smarter, then there's no way they can handle them all alone. Even with the Ouroboros gone, not everyone's a Mega Man and capable of fighting them off."

_"You're right about that...I'm not sure myself, but if anyone can get to the bottom of this, they can..." _the biometal finished, sounding sure of itself. Grey bit his lip, unsure of what to do exactly. Running his fingers through his silvery locks of hair, the reploid stared at the beach one last time. It was the second time he had had a life-changing experience on these sands, the first washing up but months ago and now his birthplace as a Mega Man, a warrior created to partake in a contest for the fate of the world, now dedicated to protecting the people from the threat of the Maverick scourge.

As pieces of Ouroboros floated out with the tide, Grey thought over everything Model Z had told him, and soon his mind was made up: He would continue on where Giro, Vent and Aile had left off and protect his loved ones from harm. Though he would likely never see his adopted grandparents again, Grey decided he would do unto others as they had done unto him: Protecting innocents and helping others as best as he could. Mavericks or not, he could not just stand by and do nothing, not while he had the definite power to do something about it.

"Well, Giga Arcadia's not too far away from here. It'll take a few hours to get there yet, but we should be able to make the trip before nightfall and contact your friends somehow," he said, pointing across the jungle horizon. There, Giga Arcadia could be seen, shining across the lands like a beacon of hope. However, even as Grey pointed the skies overhead began to cloud over with increasing rapidity. A rumble of thunder then echoed throughout the land as heavy raindrops began to patter over the beach, before quickly changing to sheets of water cascading from the heavens.

Grey grimaced miserably as he was instantly soaked; the tropical thunderstorms of this region were as dangerous as they were sudden, and standing out in the open unsheltered like this was a bad idea.

"Well, no time like the present. Come on, Model Z, let's get out of here!" he said as he holstered his backpack. Model Z might have chuckled for a moment before floating into his palm, merging with him immediately in a flash of light. Pleased to feel that he wasn't as wet now as he was seconds ago, Grey quickly shook his long golden hair before tensing his muscles and sprinting across the beach to the forest once again. For a moment, he paused as he caught sight of the destroyed area that the Ultra had fired upon earlier, guilty realizing he had forgotten all about it and wrestling with the thought of going over there to check if there were any survivors.

A sudden snap of thunder from directly above quickly brought him back to reality, reminding him he didn't have all day. Besides, he reflected grimly, if there had been survivors surely they would have called out to him before now, and he truly couldn't see how anyone could have survived a direct hit from inside that zone. Bowing his head silently in respect to whoever had risked their lives for him, he quickly raced off, promising not to let their sacrifice go to waste. Model Z said nothing, its silence proof to the reploid it was thinking about them too.

* * *

Unknown to either of them though, only after they had gone did a shape some distance from the blast zone shift from its frozen position, slowly making its way out into the clearing. Armor dirtied and charred, the figure of Commander Washington still lived as he slowly limped into the clearing, his helmet removed to allow the rain to soak his face and be swallowed thirstily. With a grimace, he looked down at his still-dislocated shoulder and with a deep breath managed to reset it with his back to a still standing tree, barely resisting the urge to cry out in agony.

After waiting a few minutes to allow the pain to dull, he looked with renewed purpose towards the beach where he had seen the abomination known as the Ouroboros rise, still unable to believe it was truly gone. Yet the truth was as clear to him as when he had awoken perhaps five minutes before and discovered to his shock to still be among the living. It and the Mavericks were gone, the only thing still left, to his shock, was what looked the civvie from before and some little weird stone thing _floating_ in the air. Confusion had given way to amazement the two suddenly became one person and raced away, along with fear and disbelief as the new being had stared at his hiding place before going.

However, the real kicker had been despite the fact he knew they couldn't be the same person, he could have sworn he had been staring directly at someone from his past, someone that was supposed to be _dead_.

"I know it can't be true..." he muttered softly to himself. "But still, was that really...Giro?"

He shook his head. The hows and whys could matter later. What mattered right now, he decided as he thumbed his communicator open, pleased to see it was still working, was telling that old fool Walker what had happened here...minus some and with changed details, of course. There were some things that you just couldn't talk about with your current employer, especially something that could land you in the psych ward to the ignorant. And even if he saw through it, it only needed to hold him for a short time.

"I've got to tell the Boss about this as quickly as possible..." he muttered silently as he waited for the other end to pick up, slowly moving towards the tree cover so he could get out of the rain. "She's gonna want to know about _everything_."

* * *

_**Later that Afternoon**_

Captain Carolina stood patiently in front of James Walker's desk, awaiting his response to the report with just the slightest hint of nervousness. Outside, the patter of rain upon the window was visible through the open blinds, providing a slightly comforting beat to break the silence. Walker was in nearly the exact same position as early that day, save this time he had a hot beverage, which he took a moment to sip as he contemplated her words.

The recon unit had long already been dispatched for the beach by the time Carolina's communicator suddenly came online with a garble of static, the breathless and pain-wracked voice of Washington coming in barely hearable over the sound of running water on both ends of the line. Having followed Walker's advice, she had retired to the barracks for a meal and had been in the middle of taking a shower when the call came in, which had resulted in the end of her respite and the quick travel back to the HQ while still in the process of putting her equipment back on in the rain. Once there, she had immediately sought the President and told him everything he had told her.

Walker had been as a statue as she recounted for him Wash's report, describing how he had arrived at the source of the destructive signal, which had turned out to be some sort of wrecked ship, along with his encounter with a young civilian likely from the outer settlements. He had attempted to warn the civvie away from the wreck, but the boy had refused to listen and instead entered the vessel. Wash had apparently followed after him, but upon entering had been ambushed by a small group of Mavericks from within, likely the surviving crew. Luckily, the civilian in question had his own weapon and some form of skill and training, and so together they managed to fight them off. From there, Wash had attempted, with the civvie's reluctance, to investigate further, eventually coming across some sort of machine within that was creating the disturbance. Together, the two of them had managed to destroy it and-

"Let me guess," Walker had interrupted her, "As the ship was preparing to explode around them, the two made a daring escape. However, in the process, a few of the surviving Mavericks ambushed them, resulting in the Commander receiving grievous injury. However, they managed to fight their way out just in time for the whole damn thing to explode, taking any and all evidence with it. The civvie then left the Commander on the beach and escaped for his cowardly life, leaving him to struggle until he could call you?"

"...What it essentially boils down to, sir, with the addition of one Maverick with a giant plasma cannon destroying a portion of the jungle," she had admitted. "But with respect, I don't believe he was lying about the injuries or the signal source being gone though. The later most definitely at least, and he sounded very convincingly hurt over the line."

Walker had grunted, though she couldn't tell if it was in agreement or not. Afterwards, they had been silent for some time, waiting for word from the recon unit. Eventually, word did come back, essentially confirming everything Washington said, to a point: The signal source was indeed gone, and they had found some evidence of a shipwreck lodged in the sands. Washington also had several injuries from plasma burns that further lent credence to his story of Mavericks, and there was even a large piece of jungle area that showed definite signs of plasma bombardment, just as he had said.

However, there was nothing to lend credence to the fact there had been a civvie on-scene, the rain having erased most any trace of passage of the sands long before the unit had arrived. Still, with most of his story having checked out, both of them were willing to give Wash the benefit of the doubt in that there had been someone else there with him now long gone.

That had been roughly five minutes ago. Now she had just been standing at attention waiting for Walker's words. "Sir?" she prompted. "Orders?"

Walker breathed in and then out, as if coming to a decision. He then focused his stone eyes on her. "When the recon unit returns with the Commander, have him brought to the medical wing for treatment and inform me of it. When he's been properly situated, I'll visit him myself. That will be all."

Carolina blinked, surprised by that last one. Walker almost never interacted with the soldiers under his command personally, preferring to delegate orders at a distance. And even when he did, it was never with someone like Washington, whose personality ran far too roughly with his own.

"I said that will be all, Captain," Walker said again, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Carolina quickly snapped back to reality, giving him a salute.

"Sir!" she replied, then quickly exited. On her way out, she couldn't help but replay what Washington had told her. There was definitely something fishy about his story, no matter how much of it was truth, and obviously Walker agreed.

So why was it she felt so uncomfortable about the President going to see him?

* * *

James Walker watched silently as the door shut behind the Captain, his mind wondering about what she and the recon unit had reported, and what had transpired on the beach. There was truth in the Commander's words, no doubt about it, but it was obvious there was some _very _important things left out.

Specifically, as to the nature of the mysterious civilian boy mentioned.

He did not doubt there had been in fact someone else with Washington on that beach; he knew for a fact that if even a third of what he had said was true, Washington should have lost more than just the use of an arm and leg if he had been by himself. However, no ordinary civilian could have handled such a situation as Washington described with such impressiveness, even one 'trained' as he so claimed. No, there was something far more to this than what the Commander had shared.

Normally, this would have been the point Walker would have spent hours in thinking and theorizing, trying to determine the boy's identity from speculation and bare facts, but a stroke of luck eliminated the need for that. Specifically the fact that when the recon unit sent in their report, they also included up close photos, blurred by the rain yes but still usable, of the wreckage.

What had drawn Walker's attention was the fact that some of the scattered pieces were white with cracked red orbs in them.

In his days as a Raider wandering the wastes of the Outlands, Walker had heard tales of ancient technology with the power to grant their users unlimited powers, stones that devoured the souls of the unworthy for the strength of the strong. Called Biometal, the stories were wild, conflicting, half-truths and outright lies, but many had a central theme: Twisted hunks of white metal like ghosts, with red cores almost like eyes, while others spoke of small hand-held devices shaped like triangles, black and gold.

While they had never found any before he split from the group to find his own calling, he distinctively remembered all the stories, especially when he heard about the destruction of Slither Inc.'s C.I.E.L. System of five years ago. The official story was of a Maverick raid causing the system to cave in on itself, but only a fool would believe that, as there was more than enough footage on the internet to prove that false if you knew where to look. However, there had also been rumors of a young boy transforming into a variety of brave warriors called Mega Men with the use of strange little devices that seemed to match the description of Biometal.

And now, here again, a mysterious boy similar in many ways to that one from Cinq Ville. Even if the boy wasn't directly connected to the wreckage, it was far too much of a coincidence for him to ignore, though it also posed a question of what to do.

If the child truly had a Biometal, he would have to have it no matter what, that much was obvious. After all, what would a child know of using such power responsibly? It would be a favor to take it from him, and with such a device in hand, he too could gain incredible power. He could lead the Freelancers out from Giga Arcadia's borders, eradicating the Maverick scourge once and for all and protecting his citizens and islands from any threat.

Actually, why stop there? Should he succeed in what Legion could not...no, succeed in what _nobody_ had ever done since the end of the Maverick Rebellions centuries ago...should he wipe out Mavericks from the face of the earth and forever free it from their taint...then he, James Walker, would have every right to declare himself the rightful protector, guardian and _leader_ of the entire world...

He blinked, taking a moment to rub his eyes as the daydream threatened to overtake him, reminding himself of his current limits. There was still a chance, a rather good one at that, this could just be a wild goose-chase. In which case, it wouldn't hurt to have a backup plan...

He pressed a button on his desk, initiating a call. A few seconds of static before a voice, partially drowned out from the sound of water on the other end, picked up. _"Yes sir?"_

"Squad leader, have you finished scouting the area?"

_"Yes sir, we have. No Mavericks in sight and everything looks clean,"_ The man replied._ "We have also Commander Washington loaded up on the jeep and are preparing to return to the city. Was there anything else you needed?"_

"Yes, Squad Leader. I want you to scavenge what's left of the wreckage and bring back a few intact pieces. I want several for study."

_"Sir?" _he asked puzzled, but then quickly hid it._ "Yes sir. Right away."_

"Good man," Walker congratulated the soldier. "I'll be expecting you to report in upon your return."

With that he terminated the line. Now that his back-up plan was secured, back to the matter of the boy. While he would be a dangerous opponent if he did have such an artifact, the man had advantages the child did not. There were currently no quick ways off the exotic isles except through Giga Arcadia's transervers, all of which were located near the heart of the city. While ships and planes were options, the former was rendered nearly impractical by the islands' natural defenses as well as various deep ocean currents and raging whirlpools, and only the mightiest of airships, which were monitored at all times by Freelancer security, could make the long journey to the closest continent. Not even a _Mega Man_ could hope to make the attempt without aid.

And with the Freelancers bristling for real action and the refugees terrified of potential invasions, it would a simple matter to wait for the boy to come to him. As powerful as he might be, even he couldn't stand before an army of millions, not to mention the other...defenses that waited underneath the streets. Walker breathed in and out slowly as he dialed another number, waiting patiently for the person on the other end to pick up. Quickly he did, and Walker relayed his orders with his usual stony voice.

"Activate the Hydra Aspis and have it ready to be deployed to the inner city ASAP. Set its parameters to avoid civilian casualties if at all possible, but property damage will be allowed as a necessary sacrifice. There's a potential Maverick on the loose, hiding in plain sight, and I'd like to welcome it to the city personally..." he ordered with only a hint of satisfaction in his voice. The Hydraroid was one of his trump cards in the event of a Maverick attack and would be a perfect candidate to test the mettle of this so-called Mega Man. The person on the other end uttered an affirmative before breaking off the connection, leaving Walker in one of the more satisfied moods he had been in a while.

It was just a matter of time until the boy showed up again, and when he did the Hydra Aspis would be ready for him. Walker frowned slightly as a twinge of guilt splashed through his feelings of satisfaction and contentment, directed towards the boy in question, but he pushed it aside. What he was doing was for the good of the many, taking power that a child was never meant to have or could never use properly and using it for the benefit of the people. Assuming the boy survived his encounter with the Hydra, he would be thanking him for this honor, knowing that he had helped the future hero of the world.

Still, the guilt gnawed at him at the back of his mind. But like with so many other things he had sacrificed for the greater good, like his conscious, he ignored it, returning to his work. One way or another, he would have that Biometal.

* * *

**And that's it for this chapter! Model W is defeated for real (or is it?) and now Grey prepares to journey on with Model Z! But what challenges will await them when they reach their supposed salvation? And just _who_ does Commander Washington really owe his loyalty to?**

**Those questions will...not be answered next time, because we're gonna be focusing back on the A-Plot of this story! Expect a return to Ashe and Vent next time, as well as the first hint of what's up with those Omega Cyber-Elves...**

**Review, fav and follow people! Tell me what you thought!**


	4. Sinister Clues

**Hello everybody, welcome to the newest chapter of Omega's Ascension! Back to the main plot!**

**Disclaimer: Mega Man and all its sub-series belong to Capcom. The original idea for this belongs to the author Kuraselache. X the Reaper owns nothing.**

**Alright, let's go!**

* * *

_**Hunter's Camp**_

Gunshots echoed throughout the Hunter's Camp that noontime, as did a colorful stream of curses when the training simulation came to an end.

Richard was pissed. This was the third match he, the formerly best shooter in all of Hunter's Camp, had had against Ashe today, and once again she had scored a perfect 100% to his 95% or below. It was a sore point with the older Hunter, who could still remember when he was the best shot, as well as being admired and respected for it by many of his peers. It had seemed like forever since Ashe had arrived with her three friends, inexperienced yet eager to learn and prove herself, and had not only become his equal with a gun but surpassed him as well.

Still, the girl had a good heart and never rubbed it in when she won...usually. But again, having the title of 'second-best shot' just wasn't quite the same.

"Aw, come on! You got lucky that time! Best four out of seven?"

_"You wanna go again? Alright, but we're just gonna beat you again!" _Model A growled, anticipating another round with the sureshot sniper.

"Sure thing Richard, but I'm telling you, I'm not the rookie girl you knew from before!" Ashe joked, but then scratched her chin in contemplation. "But tell you what, I'll give you a handicap so you don't feel as cheated this time: You and me, just guns and skill, no Biometals. Deal?"

_"Hey!"_

"You're on!"

"That's gonna have to wait, you two. We've got bigger things to worry about right now."

Ashe turned her head to see her best friends and comrades in arms enter the shooting range. Nicol, Lazarus and Red each bore grim expressions, and her previous good mood faded at the sight of their faces. Concerned, she raced over to them. "What bigger things?" she asked, though she had a feeling deep down what it was.

"Another Maverick raid?" Richard added, voicing those thoughts as he jogged to catch up with them.

"Yeah, but worse than what we're used to. Way worse," Nico replied, already leading the way back into the main camp. "We just got a distress call from one of the main power plants in our region. We couldn't make such sense of the message, but from what we can gather, it sounds like a big Maverick assault."

Moments later as the Hunters filed into Unit #04, they encountered several of their fellows already inside, watching a flustered Nana trying desperately to reassure a panicked voice on the other end of the transmission. No one could see how it was on the digit feedback monitor, the video too badly distorted by static and white noise as the signal barely pinged through to Hunter's HQ.

"Power Plant 17A, say again!" she she said into the mic. "The static's making it hard to hear! What's your status?"

_**"Hu... port! We need ass...oran... ue... rick... o... attack...beliv... need help please! ...od! NO!...**_

The usually timid female navigator swore as she tried to reestablish the lost signal, both to place the proper coordinates for the transerver and to resume contact.

"I've tried calling Legion already, but no one's answering," she said as she worked. "So it's either we wait for further information to figure out what's going on, or we take matters into our own hands and charge right in."

Billy, a longtime member of the guild and one of the first ones Ashe had met here, frowned in disappointment at Nana's words. "Wait? Wait for what, more people to get hurt? If Legion's too busy to tell us about when people are dying, then screw them. We'll do what we do best: Kicking maverick ass and being heroes. There's no way in hell I'm leaving innocent people to get hurt by mavericks if I can do something about it!"

Many of the other Hunters, Ashe included, muttered or nodded their heads in agreement. Many of them had seen the horrors Mavericks wrought, and many of those had been personal victims before or after becoming Hunters. The female Hunter felt Model A vibrate inside her jacket, emphatically sensing both her anger towards the mavericks and concern for the people in the power facility.

Scanning the area where the message came from, an isolated area surrounded by several valleys, Nana managed to reestablish the signal, then attempted to connect their transerver with the facility's own. A moment of triumph that quickly devolved into surprise and anger as an 'ERROR' message repeatedly flashed across the screen of her computer.

"Damn it!" she snapped, surprising everyone with her uncharacteristic swearing as she turned to look at them. "It's no good. Transervers are locked down all around the area. It'll take hours to get there if we can't use them, and our airships are still undergoing repairs from the Ouroboros assault.

Several of the more knowledgeable Hunters exchanged worried looks. Complete lockdowns were rare and always bad news. The only times they occurred was when security was hacked to prevent backup from getting through, or the attack was so bad operators had been forced to shut down completely to prevent any more mavericks from teleporting into the area. Neither outcome was good news, and without functional airships it would take far too long to get there and help anybody who might survive the carnage.

_"We'll never get there in time!" _Model A said sadly. Ashe clutched her fists in helpless rage, wondering once again why things still weren't getting better after Master Albert's defeat.

Just then, an incoming signal pinged on the monitor, a blond girl in pink uniform appearing on the screen as Nana quickly accepted the transmission. Ashe knew who she was immediately, having met the girl when she had been getting ready to attack the Ouroboros with fellow Mega Man Vent. It was Prairie, leader and Commander of the Guardians. The female reploid looked at the assembled group, face grim but also somewhat relieved at seeing them all at the ready.

"I can tell from your expressions that you no doubt received the same distress call from the power plant. We're right in your area and on our way to intercept. If you can and willing, we need as many of you to gear up and get ready to teleport aboard the Grand Nuage as possible to embark on a rescue mission. We can only afford time for one group though, so choose wisely."

Accepting the request, Prairie and Nana then exchanged the necessary data for teleporting aboard the airship. Inputting the area code, Nana sighed in relief as the transerver accepted the data and booted up for use, while the other Hunters briefly held a conversation on who was going and agreed. It was a tight squeeze as Ashe, Nicol, Lazarus, Red, Richard, Billy and Anna (the Guild's medic) crammed themselves into the unit. Activating the new code, Nana and the other Hunters watched as the seven of them vanished, having teleported aboard the aerial Guardian HQ miles away.

If the attack was as bad as they feared, then they needed every hand possible to ward off this threat. The other Hunters began to clear out, some to guard the camp's borders, others to help speed up the airship repairs. Some even went to pray to whatever religion they believed in to grant those fighting safe travel and good luck.

It wasn't until only Nana herself was left alone that a thought occurred in her mind, wondering exactly why Legion hadn't responded and warned them of the outbreak earlier, as it was standard procedure to warn Legion first of Maverick outbreaks before moving on to places like Hunter guilds and independent task forces like the Guardians.

* * *

_**Unknown Location (Presumably somewhere in mid-North America) **_

Master Mikhail was many things. Scientist, politician, leader, adviser, and joker were all things that occupied his resume. He wielded one-third of the power of the mightiest organization on Earth, and had lived long enough that the number of people living older than him could be counted on one hand.

And now he was stuck in a small dark cabin with the only illumination being a lamp that he could have sworn was as old as he was. Next to him, a brown-haired, old reploid woman, who appeared to be one of those more ancient than he, was currently finishing her efforts to stitch up the synthetic flesh on his damaged arm, applying a dose of antiseptic for good measure.

The old Sage grunted in pain as his recently stitched arm stung at the touch of disinfectant, wincing then as bandages were slowly wrapped about it. His three eyes dilated in pain, desperately wishing they had still had the ability to shut them as normal eyes were blessed with as he gazed at the angry red cut going along his limb.

"Been awhile since you've felt pain like this, huh?" she asked him rhetorically. "The little boy I remember could have lost his whole arm and he'd squirm less than you are now."

Mikhail winced again, looking at the current source of his discomfort. Despite her seemingly callous manner, her touch was gentle as she worked on his arm, slowly wrapping it in thick bandages.

"Well, I do admit it's been a long time," he replied, then added with a little good humor, "but as they say, pain builds character. Perhaps I've been long overdue for some."

The woman allowed a small chuckle to escape her lips. "Well, age certainly hasn't done anything to your humor, has it Mikey?" The old Sage flinched slightly at the use of his childhood nickname. "But no matter how old you get, you'll still be that little boy to me." With that, she finished wrapping his injury, standing up. "I think that'll do. A shame I can't do more though."

Mikhail briefly raised his arm and slowly moved it, noting with satisfaction that while it was still painful it wasn't agony anymore. What little synthetic flesh that he had left had been treated, and hopefully his auto-repair function would take care of the rest.

"No, it's quite fine," he assured her. "You've done as beautiful a job as ever, Aria." With a grunt of effort he pushed himself off the bed he was resting on and walked towards the exit, only stopping to grab his broken golden cane lying on a table, followed by his companion who watched him with a careful eye.

"Still, I wouldn't have expected you to come back here of all places," she quipped as he reached the door, "I thought you said you had no intention of ever coming back here."

Mikhail ignored her for a moment as he opened the door, taking a second to fully appreciate the sight before him. They were currently in what appeared to be the middle of a canyon, miles of red-brown walls rising above them towards the skies. Around him on ground level was what appeared to be several other small shacks and cabins, filled with other old reploids and a few humans here and there, simply relaxing in the quiet open.

If he still had a real mouth, he would have smiled nostalgically at the sight. So many decades and yet this place still seemingly hadn't changed.

Then again, what exactly did he expect of his former home? The whole reason he left it as an impressionable and wild youth in the first place was because it was too quiet and slow for him.

This place was known as Trans Kon, one of the few settlements during the 'Ragnarok Era' that dared to survive outside the protective shield of Neo Arcadia and scourged out a life in the wilderness. The mighty canyon walls on all sides served as a powerful defense against maverick attacks and helped conceal them from the roaming machines, and the multitude of secret caves within the walls allowed the people to easily hide from attacks that did occur. The colony had been established when Neo Arcadia began its original extermination campaign against reploids, the inhabitants reploids who had escaped and humans who had refused to condone such things.

Isolated as it was, the inhabitants had to work together to survive in the harsh area, and it had been a place where the two races had been able to foster strong relationships, especially compared to Arcadia. When the great peace had arrived, the people of Trans Kon, despite their strong individualist lifestyle, had been instrumental in helping to teach humans and reploids to coexist on a larger scale. Mikhail's life in the small town, despite its slowness and quietness, had provided him with the equalized outlook Legion needed to be successful in its first years, and as he grew older began to appreciate it for what it was.

"It wasn't like I had a choice, Aria," he replied simply, turning to look at her as she joined him by the door. Now in the daylight, he could see where most of her visible body had been replaced by cybernetics, only her face still as real as the day she had been born. "There were some...complications at work."

"'Complications'," she repeated, almost mockingly. "Those must have been some pretty big complications, given how Andre found you half-dead bleeding out, faint from blood-loss at that."

Mikhail looked away, not knowing how to respond to that. His hurried transfer from Legion had thankfully managed to land him near enough to his old home, if not exactly in it. A good thing to, as he had promptly blacked out upon arrival. Who knows what would have happened if they hadn't managed to find him before some scavenger did...

Aria's softened as she looked at him. "But seriously Mikhail, tell me what happened. Trust your big sister with that much at least."

The Sage looked down, his eyes upon the symbol of his power. Power that now meant nothing as far as his oldest former friend and his current situation was concerned. Yes, he was better now, but now what? Could he tell her? She was his only living primary family member left, but what would happen if Thomas and his forces managed to track him here? His teleport hadn't exactly been encrypted or secret; they could piggyback on his personal transerver signal to get a rough approximation of his location, and if Thomas recalled where he had originally come from, that would instantly give away his place.

Would they burn the village down? Kidnap Aria for information if he told her? Kill her when she was no longer useful?

"...I'm sorry, but I can't tell you."

"Why not?" she asked him, her voice gaining an annoyed edge. "It's obviously something big. Did something happen in Legion? Is the city going to hell in a handbasket and you had to run? Did you do something you weren't supposed to?"

"Something like that, yes," he admitted. "But I can't tell you more. I'm a wanted man now, sis. They'll come for me, if they haven't already. I need to be long gone when it happens, and you can't know anything that might spell doom for this place."

"You're my brother, Mikey," she replied stubbornly. "Your fight is my fight."

Just like Aria. When he had tried to leave back in the day she had wanted to come with him, not because she also wanted to see the world but because she wanted to keep him safe. Their parents had died when they were young and she had taken up the role of parent when they were only thirteen and ten respectively. He had been annoyed by her actions, but he knew that she just didn't want to lose the only family she had left. However, she had stayed because the village needed her, as she had eventually risen to being the leader of Trans Kon, and the needs of the many outweighed those of one, even if that one was family.

Mikhail was about to reply, but was cut off when an explosion ripped through the canyon, coming from near the other side of the small village. Both cyborgs startled at the sound, and Mikhail felt a pit open in his stomach.

'It can't be,' he tried to assure himself, 'Thomas couldn't have found me so quickly...'

Another explosion, followed by screams of pain and terror, quickly squashed that desperate hope.

"What on Earth..." his sister whispered from next him, her eyes suddenly drawn to the sight of something dark darting between houses. "What is that?!"

He knew what it was. Only one Mega Man could have found him so quickly, and it was the one with the least amount of mercy in his heart. As if on cue, a reploid braver (or perhaps more foolish) than the rest tried to confront the phantom alone. He quickly fell to the ground screaming in pain, clutching at the long gash across his chest. The dark warrior swiftly placed away the blade he had used and continued to move onward, unrelenting in his movement.

Mikhail looked back down at his cane, coming a decision. He couldn't let this continue, and there was only one way he could think of to deal with this without anymore bloodshed."

"Aria," he suddenly said, calling her attention back to him. "I'm sorry, but I need to go."

She looked at him, confusion evident in her expression. "Wha-"

"He's after me," he replied quickly. "If I escape, if he sees me leaving, he'll leave everyone else here alone." 'I hope.'

She shook her head. "Mikhail, you're insane. That thing will kill you!"

"And he'll kill everyone here if I stay!" Mikhail replied, already moving back into the house, ducking down into a corner to make himself less visible as he typed in his transerver coordinates. "I know who this person is, Aria, and if his target is solely me, then he'll only kill anyone who directly interferes. He won't have any reason to stay and do so if he sees me leave."

Another scream as another, this time a human, was struck down, clutching her arm. Several people fired upon the dark wraith with various firearms, only to be dealt with swiftly as the being moved as a shadow, swiftly disarming and disabling all of the attackers. Aria looked at the sight of them crying out in pain, bleeding out as the figure stalked closer to where she and her brother was, and she turned back to him.

"Really? Because from where I'm looking we're as good as dead anyways!" she shouted back. "You leaving won't change a thing, because it'll probably just kill all of us out of spite, or even as just witnesses. If you're in as dead trouble as you claim, then it doesn't matter if you leave. At least together we all have a chance!"

Mikhail looked at her desperately, knowing on some level she was right despite his own hopes. According to reports, Siarnaq had been one of the deadliest assassins alive even before he obtained Biometal Model P. He normally only went after the target alone, but he would willing kill off an entire village if he thought it could complicate things too much. And while a part of him still hoped Thomas had the heart not to involve innocent civilians in this manhunt, he understood that the new Thomas likely wouldn't see such losses as anymore than 'collateral damage' in resetting the world.

He was trapped. Stay, and Siarnaq would murder anyone and anything in his way until he found him. Leave, and the Shadow Mega Man would just kill them all to silence any witnesses.

He could only think of one way to deal with this.

"...Trust me on this, sister," he pleaded, rapidly typing in a new set of coordinates into his cane for transport. "I know what I'm doing!"

Aria was about to reply, but a sudden chill ran down her back. Without thinking, she slammed the door shut, turning herself to look behind her.

A dark purple-armored being stood before her, looking for all the world like some sort of soulless zombie, slumped and limped. A frayed red scarf hung as limply from its neck as its arms, its dead red eyes the only thing visible in its utterly blank face. It gazed directly into her green eyes, not a trace of compassion in its own.

"I HAVE COME FOR THE RETRIEVAL OF MASTER MIKHAIL," it intoned. "WHERE IS HE? INPUT RESPONSE..."

"Like I'd tell you," she growled, her voice defiant, if slightly trembling. This being terrified her, and not just in how robotic it seemed, but rather the distinct lack of _anything _remotely resembling living in its voice or appearance. It was as if she was facing a standard mechaniloid, not an actual reploid.

"INVALID INPUT," it replied, right before its right arm snapped out and grabbed her neck, lifting her seemingly effortless despite her being easily over a hundred and fifty pounds. "INPUT RESPONSE..."

Its fingers were like steel around her neck, and despite her artificial body Aria could feel her throat crush as if she still had one of flesh and blood. "S-Screw...yo-you..." she coughed out, using her own arms to try and pry the hand off, with no success.

"INVALID INPUT. WARNING: CONTINUED INVALIDATED INPUT WILL RESULT IN PERMANENT TERMINATION," it said, its fingers tightening about her throat. "FINAL CHANCE. INPUT RESPONSE..."

What could she say? Reveal her brother's location and live, or stay silent and die? For her, there was only one answer, an answer she had long ago come up with when their parents had died in a maverick raid, unable to get into the caves in time.

"I...I'll d-die...before I...t-tell you...anyth-thing..." she choked out.

"...RESPONSE ACCEPTED," it said after a moment of silence. "DIE."

* * *

Siarnaq tightened his grip upon the pathetic human's neck, feeling her blood flow from where his fingers were digging and watching struggles slow. Where a normal being would have felt annoyance at being unable to get the information he wanted or even sadistic pleasure at the sight of her futile efforts, the emotionless warrior felt nothing. For him, this was simply another part of the mission, and there was nothing to feel when completing a mission.

Logic dictated that Master Mikhail was no doubt within the building behind this cyborg, either cowering in fear or perhaps preparing a teleport. It didn't matter either way to him, as he would hunt him down either way once he was done here-

"Siarnaq!"

Mikhail's voice rang out, causing Siarnaq to lose all interest in his current annoyance as he dropped her like a sack of potatoes, turning in the direction of the sound. To the reploid's surprise, he found himself suddenly tackled by the short sage, still gripping his cane, and stumbled a few steps as he tried to get his bearings. The assassin quickly recovered though and drew an energy kunai, preparing to disable his quarry and bring him to Thomas at last.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE RUN WHILE YOU HAD THE CHANCE," he said as he did so, drawing his blade up to aim for the throat.

"And you..." the sage grunted in exertion, though there seemed to be a hint of...satisfaction? "Should have learned your lesson last time."

Siarnaq didn't know what he meant and didn't care. He brought the blade down, intending to end this. By sheer luck, Mikhail managed to get what was left of his cane in the way, the blade becoming embedded in the orb. Siarnaq simply grabbed the cane and kicked the old fool in the chest, causing him to fly a few feet away and collapse in a heap, leaving the broken item in his hands.

"RESISTANCE IS FUTILE," he simply said as he prepared to retrieve the sage, who was now holding his midsection and gasping in pain. "SURRENDER NOW."

Mikhail continued to wheeze and gasp, but slowly those sounds turned to something else. Siarnaq looked at him in puzzlement as the pained sounds turned into...chuckling?

"T-Tell me, Siarnaq," he wheezed. "Do you...know what happens to a person who uses...a damaged transerver?"

As if on cue, the cane suddenly began spark and crackle with the familiar light of a teleportation. Siarnaq's eyes widened as he realized what Mikhail was about to do, had _tricked_ him into doing, and he quickly tried to toss the malfunctioning device away.

Unfortunately, he was a little too slow.

The next thing the reploid saw was a bright flash of light, swiftly followed by an intense feeling of pain from his left arm...

* * *

Mikhail coughed as he slowly got to his feet, his eyes on the spot where the Shadow Mega Man had vanished. Only scorched ground greeted his gaze, along with two objects. The first was a piece of his cane/transerver, partially melted and still faintly smoking.

The second was Siarnaq's severed left arm, occasionally twitching as some electrical impulse went through it, blood quickly pooling around it.

He smiled in spite of himself. Even if he wasn't entirely certain that the Mega Man was dead (and if he really was immortal, then it was a very low chance even _that _had stopped him), he had at least managed to delay him, especially if he was minus one arm.

"Mikhail!"

He turned his head, seeing his sister rushing towards him as fast as she was able. "Aria, I-"

He didn't get any further when her fist collided with his head.

Truth to be told, it wasn't too strong, he barely felt it thanks to his metal head as a matter of fact, but the sheer suddenness of it did cause him to stagger as he gazed at his sister with wide eyes. "What-"

"No, that was _I _should be saying!" she snapped, lifting her arm to hit him again. "_What were you thinking_, charging at that monster like that?! You could have died!"

"It was the only way I could stop him!" he shouted back desperately, raising his hands to prevent another blow. "I couldn't just let him hurt-"

He stopped when he realized the blow never came, at least not how he expected. Instead, Aria had wrapped her arms around him, her eyes threatening to shed tears she had long ago been unable to.

"I know you couldn't," she whispered softly, her voice a conflicting stew of relief, anger, fear and gladness. "But you're still my baby brother. How do you think _I_ felt, watching you charge at him even though I knew you couldn't stop him either way, watching you throw your life away?"

Mikhail grew silent as he listened to her. "I'm sorry," he replied, "but it was the only way I could make him grab my transerver."

"...Just don't do stupid stuff like that again," she muttered, then let him go, looking over at the wreckage. Even so, the Sage could see the gladness in her eyes. "What happened to that...thing anyways?"

"Blind jump," Mikhail responded, looking at the site himself and unable to keep a hint of satisfaction out of his voice. "I couldn't get the full coordinates in, but I know I sent him to a place with plenty of mountains. With any luck, he teleported _into_ one. But even so..." he looked at her seriously, his tone brokering no argument. "I still need to leave and soon. I need to contact the Guardians and tell them what I know, so that means I need to get to a working transerver, one with teleportation capability."

She looked at him and nodded. "Three days ride to Mombasa," she told him, saying the name of the closest city that had the necessary transervers. "I can make it in two if we go now, after we help the people in the village."

He smiled, or would have if his face had the option to do so. Still, it was evident in his voice. "Well, no time like the present, huh?"

Helping the villagers would eat up some time, but Mikhail would be damned if he let _his_ people died when he could have helped him. Besides, with Siarnaq off the trail for now and Thomas none the wiser, he had at least _that_ much time to spare...right?

* * *

_**Unknown Location (Presumably mountainous terrain in the European area)**_

With a burst of energy that quickly winked out of existence, Siarnaq appeared and collapsed in a heap on solid rock, which turned out to be a slanted edge of some ledge and one his body quickly started rolling down thanks to gravity. Near him, the destroyed remnants of Mikhail's transerver rolled down the slope along with him, melted and sparking with electricity, useless.

Mikhail, unknowingly, had failed in his gamble, if only by a few feet. Still, at several thousand feet up, not even a Mega Man could survive that sort of fall.

However, as he quickly slid to his seemingly inevitable doom, pale blue energy suddenly gathered around his right hand, morphing into claw-like structures that were quickly dug into the slope. With a jerk the Shadow Mega Man's descent stopped, all while the rocks and transerver dislodged by his travel continued onward and fell off into empty space.

With slow, deliberate movements, the assassin dragged himself up the slope, only stopping once he reached a seemingly stable area by a large, worn rock, leaning up against it.

The reploid was in bad shape, that was obvious to anyone if they were there to observe. His entire body was covered in scorch marks and cracks, his scarf almost looking burned as smoke faintly whiffed up from his form. Blood pooled out from under him where his left arm was literally _gone_, metal, muscle and artificial skeleton severed in a clean cut: A phenomena referred to as a "portal cut", when an object doesn't completely transition between two areas and gets split apart...literally. They had been especially rampant during the earliest days of transervers, but massive tests and safety measures had quickly solved those problems, leaving it as a rare freak accident.

Even so, it was still one of the deadliest accidents that could happen when using a transerver, as a portal cut would destroy anything caught in it, no matter how durable. In addition, the only way a portal cut could happen in this day and age would be if the transerver malfunctioned, which usually meant exposure to high levels of energy beyond what most could safely handle that usually spelled a horrible death for the unlucky. A normal being would have died from the shock and blood loss.

However, Siarnaq was no normal being. He was a Mega Man, an existence created to surpass the bounds of normal humanity and achieve the impossible, and that was before he received Thomas' "gift". And as he slowly forced himself to stand against the rock, enduring pain he had not felt since his _accident _and lifting what remained of his scarf to wrap the injury, he proved, if only to himself, that he was indeed beyond what most people thought as 'killable'.

Still, as his own diagnostic of himself quickly showed, he definitely wasn't 'invincible' either.

"DAMAGE LEVEL CRITICAL. LOSS OF LEFT LIMB FUNCTIONALITY AND MULTIPLE BURNS WITHIN ARMOR DETECTED. FUNCTIONAL CAPACITY AT 51%," he intoned aloud, uncaring that no one could hear him. "HAZARDOUS TO PROCEED WITH CURRENT MISSION. ABANDON MISSION?"

He took a moment to view his surroundings. Several hundred feet away another mountain rose from the earth, and he could see at least a dozen more in the distance. Craning his neck upwards, he could make out the snowy peaks thousands of feet above him, and a glance below showed him the green of evergreen forests.

"SCANNING...THREE POTENTIAL LOCATIONS FOUND. AREAS DESIGNATED AS 'RHODOPE', 'ALPS' AND 'PYRENEES'. PROBABILITY OF LOCATIONS AT 33%, 36%, AND 38% RESPECTIVELY. INCONCLUSIVE DATA DUE TO LACK OF INFORMATION."

Where he was, it was definitely far away from wherever Mikhail was. Having whatever was left of the transerver would be useful in finding out the rough coordinates of where he was, but he wasn't about to go hunting for it down a slope. Besides, it wouldn't stop him from teleporting back to the village and finishing what he started...assuming of course the Sage was even there anymore.

Siarnaq's logical processes judged the pros and cons of continuing his mission. It was definitely much more hazardous yes, but worth aborting? That was a question with no easy answer. His orders were, after all, to retrieve Master Mikhail whatever the cost as soon as possible. Each lost second meant more time to reach the Guardians and tell them what was happening, which could blow their plans all out of the water.

However, his injuries were a very real obstacle, and unlike his burns the loss of his limb would greatly increase his vulnerability in the event of a fight. He had no doubt he could defeat any normal soldier in his way even like this, but a Mega Man like Model X or A? Out of the question.

Someone else might have weighed the choices a little longer, but Siarnaq wasn't limited by feelings like doubt. Once presented with two equally unpleasant choices, he would choose the lesser of two evils without hesitation.

"IN CURRENT CONDITION...RETREATING."

There was no shame in this. Yes, there would no doubt be hell to pay with Thomas, but better that than dying because he was too stubborn to repair himself when he had the chance.

Siarnaq prepared to activate his personal transerver and leave; however, he paused when something, a flash of light, caught his eyes. Looking closely, he backed up in surprise when he realized that there was something odd about the boulder he was resting against, specifically a crack running along its length. There almost appeared to be something stuck inside, something that looked very familiar...

With interest peaked, he pried his free hand into the crack, forming plasma claws again as tore away some of the stone, his blades serving as makeshift picks as he widened the opening. With a final grunt he tore part of the rock face away, revealing his find to the world.

White metal glistened faintly in the sun as Siarnaq's eyes traced over the familiar lines and red core of a Model W, no doubt one of the few Albert had been unable to obtain in his mad dash to retrieve the fragments for his Ouroboros. It was rather small, perhaps only about his size from what he could see, though for all he knew the majority of it could still be within the mountain.

However, the brief sense of surprise he might have felt faded when he took a closer look, realizing there was a reason perhaps for its abandonment. The red core was broken, the once bright veins a dull grey. This Model W was dead to the world, and thus no better than scrap metal now.

However, something glimmered from within the glass core with a faint purple light, the very same light that had attracted his attention. Without hesitating, Siarnaq broke the glass of an object that had once meant the world to him and grasped the fist-sized object within, feeling an odd sense of...sadness at touching it, as if it didn't _want _to be found. Model P's own consciousness stirred weakly inside his mind, a sensation of anxiety passing through him as it tried to warn him of the danger he held in his palm. Irritated, Siarnaq banished both feelings from his mind as he pulled his hand back and examined his prize, briefly wondering what the odds were he had found _this _thing here of all places (odds that his mind calculated at an estimated 3,783,907 to 1 at minimum).

He might have failed in capturing Mikhail for now, but Master Thomas would be pleased that he at least found something useful for trying to make up for his failure.

For what he'd found, despite being purple instead of crimson, was unmistakably Model O.

* * *

**_Grand Nuage (en route to Power Plant)_**

Guardian Maquereau rapped on the door leading to Commander Prairie's room, awkwardly adjusting the straps of his gun and his armor as he did so.

"Enter."

Upon hearing the muffled command, Maquereau pressed his palm against the door control and opened it, stepping into the room.

The thing that always struck his mind upon entering was that Commander Prairie was _way _too into pink. The entire room was covered in the color, and all over he could see multiple stuffed animals of varying sizes. Even the very bed in which the Commander slept on looked like something a little girl would sleep in, not the battle-ready leader of one of the strongest defense forces on the planet.

Of course, that wasn't the only thing about the room, as there was a whole bookshelf dedicated to various fields of science and history, including several data tablets with different diagrams of technology or weapon systems littered about the room. Commander Prairie herself was currently sitting in front of a computer and reading what looked like some sort of message from an agent in the field, though she turned around and exited out before he could see what it was about.

As she did though, he could have sworn he saw just the faintest hints of shock and happiness in her face, as if she had tried to conceal them too quickly behind a mask and let the feelings bleed through it. However, it was gone in the next instant, leaving only the determined lines of the leader he had grown to trust almost like a mother.

"Something wrong, ma'am?" he asked her out of politeness.

She shook her head. "Nothing, just a report from the ground base about a breakthrough of sorts. Status?" she asked him, her tone slipping into that of the battle-ready Commander who would fight tooth and nail to protect the innocent. Marquereau stood a little straighter as he delivered his report.

"Ma'am, the Hunters are situated and ready. The ship is en route to the power plant and will arrive in 20 minutes. A Guardian strike team is at the ready for deployment, and Muget and Rose are ready to assist the wounded along with the Hunter medic Anna. Mega Man Model A is also ready to go."

She nodded her head. "Is Vent on-board?"

"He's in Cinq Ville, making his way to the nearest transerver now. He should be aboard in five minutes."

Prairie let out a tired sigh, a small smile gracing her lips. "Well, that's a nice bit of good news. Lord knows we need it."

Marquereau nodded but otherwise didn't move. Prairie gave him a curious look.

"Something on your mind, Marqu? Say it if you want."

He hesitated for a moment, but then acquiesced. "Ma'am, I have to say...this is a bit unusual for you, don't you think?"

"I don't believe I quite follow your meaning."

"It's just...I can understand you wanting to bring along Vent for this, but why Ashe as well? Don't you think two Mega Men together is a little bit excessive for just one maverick raid, especially if we're bringing the Grand Nuage itself to the playing field? With so many outbreaks out recently, we can't afford to just put all our eggs in one basket, as they say."

Marquereau was silent as he finished, waiting for the Commander's response. She in turn was quiet for a moment, then stood up from her chair and walked over to a data pad near her desk.

"While you're no doubt aware of the fact that the power plant was attacked," she began, "you still don't know that it wasn't just one ordinary Maverick raid."

"Huh?"

"Follow me, Marquereau. This is something that everyone going down there needs to see for themselves. And I don't feel like repeating this process."

* * *

Vent stepped out of the transerver with a tired sigh, taking a moment to look around at the familiar metal fixtures around him.

"Home sweet home, huh Model X?"

_"It has been a while since we've been here last," _the blue Biometal agreed as it floated alongside its Chosen. _"But nothing's really changed from what I can see."_

With another sigh, the teen slid a hand through his long brown hair as he exited the transerver room, coming face-to-face with Silure, the Guardian's mechanic. The old reploid looked him up and down for a moment before smiling.

"Well, if it ain't young Vent!" he said by way of greeting. "Where have you been for the past couple of days?"

"Around fighting Mavericks," Vent answered with a smile, before it became more serious. "You know where everyone's meeting?"

Silure nodded, his own mood turning grim. "Yup, down in the meeting hall. The Hunters are already there, including that Ashe girl."

Vent nodded, his own spirits rising slightly at the knowledge that his fellow Mega Man was here too. It'd definitely make things easier for them in handling the mavericks. "Thanks Silure," he told him as he began to walk away.

"Anytime Vent. Tell your girlfriend I said 'hi', by the way."

Vent's head whipped around so fast that it was a miracle he didn't break his own neck. "What?!"

Silure chuckled. "Sorry, couldn't resist!"

"Yeah, sure you couldn't..." he muttered as he walked off.

Vent couldn't quite get why people assumed that he had a thing for Ashe. He had only met her for a few days after all, and just because he had carried out of the Ouroboros bridal-style didn't mean he was in love with her! Heck, they had barely seen each other over the past few days, too busy running missions to bother catching up. Yeah, they were friends, but not like that...were they?

'As a matter of fact, why am I even thinking about this?' he asked himself as he broke into a run, shaking his head. 'I've gotta get to the hall!'

Model X floated along behind him, resisting the urge to chuckle in case Vent heard him. _'Ah, the bounds of young love...' _it thought half-seriously.

* * *

Ashe rolled her eyes as the Guardian in front of her, Scombrésoce or something like that, tried to flirt with her as they waited for Commander Prairie to make her appearance. It wasn't like he was really annoying her though: at worst he was just that weird guy who just wouldn't shut up, but you could tune him out pretty easily if you had something to occupy yourself with.

She was currently occupying herself with the idea of how he'd look with his pointed chin beard singed off by her buster pistol, or perhaps a trim with one of her A-Trans that had laser blades or blades in general.

"...But alas, I was defeated by that disgraceful brute!" he said, continuing on about some battle he had had with a bull Mechaniloid with an axe. "If it wasn't for the fact that my good friend Hareng was there, I would have been done for!"

"Yeah," a blond Reploid, presumably Hareng, added. "Though sometimes I wish I did let that guy cleave you in half. Maybe I would've saved money on the several dozen packs of ear plugs I've bought since then."

Ashe snorted at that, and did so again when Scombrésoce's head fell. She then looked around, searching for a familiar blue-coated figure with long hair. "Anyways, you guys know where Vent is?"

Hareng looked at her. "I heard he's on his way here now, just finishing up from a mission. Why?"

She shrugged. "No reason. He's my friend after all. Is it a crime that I can wonder where he is?"

Scombrésoce's eyebrow peaked as a small grin split his face. "No, but perhaps you are asking as more than a mere friend-"

"Go any further with that sentence and I will shoot you in your artificial balls," Ashe warned him in a very calm, collected voice. "With a charged shot."

"And I'll be helping her."

All three turned their attention to the voice in question, seeing Vent standing there with his arms crossed, Model X right there alongside him. Scombrésoce's eyes widened as he tipped his helmet towards the Blue Mega Man.

"Well, this was a nice chat but I must be off! Ta-ta!"

Hareng watched him go and sighed. "I'd better go after him," he muttered before turning towards Vent, nodding his head. "Good to see you, Vent."

"You too, Hareng."

The Guardian left, leaving the two Chosen Ones to face each other. A small awkward silence filled the space as both of them realized they had no idea how to pursue this conversation now, but it was Ashe who made the first move, holding out her hand.

"Hey Vent," she said with a grin. "How've ya been?"

"Alright, if you can call maverick hunting and saving people 'alright'," Vent answered, his own grin apparent as he accepted her hand with his own. "You?"

She shrugged. "The same." She glanced over at the blue Biometal next to him. "Yo, Model X. Haven't seen you in a while."

_"Hello Ashe," _Model X said in turn. _"I take it Model A's doing fine__?"_

_"I'm great!" _Model A admitted, floating out of Ashe's jacket to face its fellow Biometal. _"Me and Ashe have been fighting a whole bunch recently, but it's alright, because we're still looking out for each other. We even slept together last night!"_

Vent bit back his laughter at seeing Ashe's face suddenly turned into a tomato, right before she she slapped her Biometal.

"Idiot! Don't say things that could be taken out of context..." she muttered, then smiled evilly. "After all, we wouldn't want everybody to hear about your little secret..."

_"H-Hey!"_

Vent shook his head, hearing Model X give off an amused chuckle at the spectacle before them. "Seriously though, it's good to see you two again," he said aloud, getting their attention back to him. "I just wish it could have been under better circumstances."

Ashe nodded, her own mood turning grim again. "The same. You've got any idea what we're up against?"

"I just heard it was a Maverick raid and that I needed to get back to the Guardian Base ASAP," Vent replied, looking around. "From the looks of things though, it's pretty big. Prairie should be coming along any time soon to brief us-"

He stopped when he realized that the Commander herself was already entering the room, holding some sort of data pad and flanked by Marquereau. Ashe followed his gaze and shrugged.

"Well, I guess we're about to find out," she muttered as they, along with everyone else, watched Prairie move towards the raised podium to speak.

* * *

Prairie looked over the assembled faces, her own projecting a strong sense of determination and solid foundation. "You're no doubt wondering exactly what you're all in for upon landing at the plant," she began, addressing the reason they had gathered. "To be perfectly honest, I can't say for certain. All we know for certain is that it's some sort of maverick raid, one far more dangerous than what we're used to."

"It'll be fine!" someone near the back called. "We've got two Mega Men on our side! This'll be a walk in the park!"

A mutter of agreement rippled through the assembled troops, some of them slapping Vent or Ashe on the back or giving them thumbs-up, to which they responded with grins or small waves of their own.

"Yes indeed," Prairie replied, though her own smile faded quickly. "Were it so easy, that is."

She held the data pad out and pressed the playback button. "This contains a reconstruction of the garbled emergency transmission. We couldn't retrieve everything and some of it is just guesswork, but this is why I wanted all of us to be ready."

A burst of static echoed over the speakers, but the audio was much clearer. The listeners could tell whoever was speaking was a male, and there was no denying the terror in his voice.

_**"Hurry, support needed! We're under attack! An orange...no, blue Maverick is on the attack! I can't believe it; it's tearing through us like we're nothing! Somebody, anybody, we need help please! We can't...oh God! No-"**_

She turned it off when a big burst of static crossed through the channel. "According to that, there's only one attacker at that plant. Plants of that size are supposed to have at minimum a force of thirty-five guards to safeguard the area, and it tore through their defenses like nothing. If it's still there by the time _we _get there, I want to have the necessary firepower to put it down permanently."

The assembled Guardians and Hunters looked at each other, some grimmer than others. Prairie let the mood shimmer for a few seconds, then spoke again.

"But make no mistake, once we get there, it doesn't matter if there's one Maverick or a hundred. We're going to do what we've trained ourselves to do, what many of us originally became Guardians or Hunters to do. And what are we gonna do?"

A moment of silence...and then:

"We're gonna scrap them!" someone female, likely Cedre, yelled. A murmur of agreement echoed that sentiment.

"We're gonna break them!" someone else shouted.

"Smash 'em!"

"Blast 'em!"

"Tear 'em to shreds!"

"We're gonna hold 'em by the nose and kick 'em in the ass!"

"Go through them like Congre does with running shoes!"

"H-Hey!" came an indignant shout from the Guardian named Congre.

Prairie smiled at them all, noting the good spirits they had worked themselves up to. This was what made command worth all of its drawbacks, to know that the soldiers under your command would willing trust you with their lives. That bespoke of camaraderie that you couldn't quite feel anywhere else, and it set alight a fire in her chest every time.

"All that and more," she told them, her voice gaining strength and volume as she spoke. "Because as the good book once said, 'Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil!' Because evil is about to get a blaster rammed right up its butt, because we are the toughest fighters who ever came walking into the valley!"

A rousing cheer greeted her words, just as the intercom rang.

_"En route to Power Plant in T-minus ten minutes. All personnel prepare for combat." _

Prairie looked over the soldiers one last time. "You heard them, get ready for combat. Good hunting everybody. And good luck."

With that, she turned to leave.

* * *

**_Giga Arcadia_**

Grey, back in his usual look, looked around the streets of the capital city, surprised by the lack of activity. Even this late into the evening, he would have expected to see the bustling, if somewhat reduced, crowds that he remembered the last time he and his adoptive family had been here. Instead, he was greeted to the sight of crowds of people yes, but they seemed almost...subdued, fearful even. They moved with a sense of urgency and caution, speaking more often than not in low tones, as if fearful of what speaking aloud would do.

Despite the warmth of the sun still apparent at his back, he couldn't help but suppress a chill that ran down his spine at the oppressive silence. It was as if the city was holding its breath for something to happen, and he wasn't certain that it was something anyone would enjoy.

Model Z also picked up on the feeling and urged his Chosen to pick up the pace, but not to rush.

_"Just act casual, Grey. You're from around here and you don't stick out much. Remember, move and act like you belong, and people will be more inclined to believe you do. It might be best to find some place to spend the night though, and find the transervers in the morning when you've rested..."_

"Yeah..." Grey muttered quietly, feeling uncertain as he heard distant sirens from far away. Shifting his pack and keeping his head down, the silver-haired youth moved on past the crowds of the bazaar further into the heart of the city to find someplace cheap to sleep for the night. He was tired after a long day's battle and travel (as he had been forced to spend a large portion of the quarter-portion in normal form to prevent security from seeing him as a threat) and agreed with Model Z's suggestion, as a warm bed and maybe something hot to eat was a very tempting idea.

Of course, just because he left the crowds behind didn't mean there still weren't people around. He could still see people huddled alone or in groups of two or three near various buildings, most ignoring him but a couple giving him cold, distrustful stares as he passed by, turning away after apparently judging him not dangerous or not worth the effort of confronting. One shady-looking human in particular wandered on over towards him, the older man sizing the reploid up with an appreciative stare.

"Don't think I've seen you around here before, kid? You new?"

Clutching the holsters of his pack with one hand and the other in his pocket (near the holster of his pistol, as he didn't want to caught off-guard again after what happen on the beach), Grey stood his ground and tried to walk around the man, not trusting himself to say anything. This guy was way too fishy, the kind of person his adoptive family had taught him to stay away from at all costs.

The human, however, anticipated his movement and sidestepped to block his path, setting off warning bells in Grey's mind. Those bells only rang louder when he moved a little too close for comfort in an attempt to get a better look at the reploid's scarred face.

"You know, it's not nice to say nothing when someone's talking to you," he continued, still with that tone of politeness that just seemed fake coming from his mouth. "Could I at least get an answer?"

Grey found himself instinctively coiling his hand around his pistol, Model Z rattling warningly within his pockets and ready to spring into action if the man tried anything funny.

"I'm just looking for a hotel to spend the night. I don't want any trouble," he replied calmly, trying not to let his wariness seep through. "So how about I just go on with my business...please?"

The man didn't back off though, remaining uncomfortably close as if deciding something. Grey found himself seriously wondering about whether or not he should just start fighting, especially when he noticed that a small crowd of similarly shifty persons was beginning to gather, but before he could come to a decision a new voice suddenly drew the man's attention away.

"You leave that boy alone! Can't you see he's just a kid?"

Dropping his head as if caught doing something he shouldn't have, the man moved away along with the crowd, allowing Grey to breathe a sigh of relief. He turned to see how his mysterious savior was, blinking as he beheld an older-looking woman with silver hair that seemed to be both natural and age-related coming towards him, stooping slightly under the weight of the groceries she was carrying.

"Don't you let me catch you harassing this boy again! You hear me?!"

The man glanced back, giving the woman a casual wave before continuing on. "Yeah, well, he shouldn't be out here all by himself then. Little kids should be at home with their mommies where it's all safe and stuff..."

Grey and the woman watched them go for a moment, then the former turned towards his rescuer. "Thank you, ma'am," he told her politely. "I think things would have gotten ugly if you hadn't shown up."

The woman smiled at him. "The pleasure was mine, child." She then looked him over for a moment, as if she was trying to remember something, but before he could ask she suddenly pulled him closer. Grey started to struggle, but stopped when he realized that unlike with the man, she seemed almost...protective in her movements.

"It's not safe out here alone at this time, son. Please, follow me," she whispered, looking about briefly. Grey glanced back down the way he was going, remembered that was where the man and his gang had gone, and decided that he was probably safer with her. Together they walked down a couple of darkened streets, Grey relieving the woman of some of her grocery burden, until they reached a quiet suburban area. Inside the house, the interior of the woman's home was small but cozy, and Grey settled himself down wearily as she unloaded her groceries and packed them away.

In the light of the house, Grey got a better look at her face. Alice was her name and she was human too. She was likely very attractive in her youth and would still be considered that way now, if it weren't for the hard lines of premature aging across her face. The weathered features gave the impression she had lived a hard life, but her attitude was anything but as she fussed over him warmly as if he was her own son.

"Thank you, really," he told her repeatedly throughout the evening. "I don't see how I can repay you..."

"No worries, child," she always replied with a smile. "I'm grateful for the company, and I just couldn't let you wander those streets alone. Please, consider your presence here payment enough."

He insisted on helping in some form though, and she eventually acquiesced by letting him help her with the evening meal. He was only of use in small areas, such as peeling vegetables or watching the oven as she baked several rolls within, but he was happy to be of assistance in any way shape or form.

Heating up a large pot in the kitchen, the rich scent of cooking soon filled the small house as they finished preparing the meal. It was some sort of stew, filled with meat, carrots, potatoes and heavy with exotic herbs and spices that had Grey's mouth watering at the mere sight. Grey's stomach rumbled heavily as she poured him and herself a large bowlful of it, several rolls of warm bread and butter near them as a side. After a brief respite to say grace (Grey more out of politeness than actual faith), the reploid eagerly dug into the meal as the kind lady began to chat with him.

* * *

Aile bit back a sigh as she waited for the reploid shopkeeper to finish wrapping her meal, feeling more than just a little pissed off at the moment. As the owner of Giro Express, it was her responsibility to manage the family business while her brother worked alongside the Guardians and help them as necessary. While she ofttimes dreamed of once again taking up the role of maverick fighter with Models X and Z alongside Vent, she understood that the world needed more than just heroes to keep it going, and the Express had been in danger of going under before she had been forced to resign from active duty to keep their foster father's legacy alive. And truth to be told, she was satisfied, even occasionally happy with her work.

Happy enough, that is, until nonsense like this occurred.

After delivering a supply of energy regulators to shifty-looking cilent and attempting to meet with a Guardian informant inside the city (who was currently in the hospital for some reason or another unable to see visitors, which jossed that plan), the city underwent emergency lockdown mode before she could leave for home. While passage in and out of the city on foot was still possible, though heavily regulated now, the transervers throughout the city were now offline all throughout the city, preventing her from getting home and forcing her to find someplace to stay overnight until the lockdown lifted. While the tropical paradise was a nice place to visit this time of year, Aile was annoyed she was stuck and couldn't shake the feeling that something weird was going on. Giga Arcadia had been unsettlingly eerie all throughout the day, a stark constrast to her last visit with her brother Vent a few years before when they had defeated Serpent.

Even so, she forced herself to give the shopkeeper a smile and even pay him a little extra, unwilling to vent her emotions out on him. The female transporter hurriedly left the food markets and began to walk back towards her hotel for the night, her free hand patting her concealed buster pistol to make sure it was still there. In these times, it was never foolhardy to carry a weapon and have the knowledge to use it after all. She had taken several shooting classes before and after she left the Guardians to make sure she could use it, having never handled a weapon seriously outside of being given help by a Biometal.

As she made her way to her place though, away from the more populated areas, she stopped when she heard a strange sound, like metal sliding against stone, as well as seeing a large shadow pass along the buildings ahead of her. Aile paused and, with a very uncomfortable yet familiar feeling in her gut, quickly raced towards a side alley and ducked into it, pausing to look around the corner. What she saw nearly made her drop her meal.

There, slowly sliding along the main streets, was a massive three-headed snake Mechaniloid, two heads triangular with the middle head shaped more bullet-like. All three had necks that tied into a larger, thicker body about a third of the way down, which split again at the last quarter into three, spike-balled tails. Despite the beast's size, it managed to glide quietly through the street without causing much damage, even avoiding the buildings around it with its three tails. Around it, a large squad of Galleon soldiers, which she recognized as the Freelancer robotic security detail, slowly marched in tune along with several human and reploid soldiers, avoiding the creature's mighty bulk as they acted almost like an escort, occasionally branching off into side streets to keep marching.

Aile quickly backed deeper into her alley way as three of them lead by a single human passed her by. While these standard models didn't typically attack unarmed civilians and even then only activated a 'guard' mode when they detected a concealed weapon, the fact that so many of them were here at once with a Mechaniloid like this meant something big and likely bad was going on. Flashbacks to Area H echoed through her mind as she stared after the forces, before reaching for her communicator to call Vent's number.

Cursing her luck as it failed to pick up his signal, Aile hoped desperately that this was just some new standard procedure in times of lockdown and not a response to some random maverick raid. Because if it was, she was stranded alone with a lone pistol in the middle of the vast metropolis, and Vent wouldn't know a thing about it until it was too late.

* * *

**Okay, so maybe I lied when I said that Grey wouldn't appear in this chapter, but hey, at least he wasn't the main focus this time! Alright, a whole bunch of framing went up this time around: Vent and Ashe have reunited and preparing to deal with a mysterious Maverick, Siarnaq has found one of the Omega Cyber-Elves, and Aile has made her first appearance!**

**What will happen next? Well, we'll find out next time!**

**Review, fav and follow people! Tell me what you all thought!**


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